


Cambiare Podentes: Madurare

by JordanGrant



Series: Cambiare Podentes [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Partner Betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 301,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanGrant/pseuds/JordanGrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Harry has been bound in slavery, how will he and Severus mature the spell to full completion? And how will they deal with the consequences of irrevocable enslavement? The second volume and conclusion to Cambiare Podentes: Invocare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With gratitude to regan_v, who betaed this and held my hand through two years to see it finished to the very end.

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 9:35 a.m.**

Strange how . . . _normal_ it all seemed, Harry thought as he hunted through the wardrobe for something to wear. He'd expected things to be a lot more awkward. But they weren't. After their brief conversation earlier, Severus had rolled out of bed and fished something out of a drawer in the night table. It turned out to be a new pair of glasses, resembling the pair Harry had destroyed just before the invocation. Harry slipped them on in time to see Severus summoning a couple of towelling robes. Severus didn't put his on, though. He merely slung it over an arm as he remarked that he needed a shower. He'd see Harry at breakfast, he said. 

And that was that. The man had strolled into his bathroom, his bare buttocks rippling as he walked. Harry couldn't help but stare. It was hard for him to imagine being so casually unconcerned about nudity. He was still a little bit embarrassed to have Severus look at him, even if the Dragon's Happy had made him forget about that for a while. 

Severus, in contrast, was so far from embarrassed that he hadn't even shut the bathroom door! Well, not all the way. 

Harry had stared at that door, not sure what to make of it. Was it an invitation? Or was it just Severus wanting Harry to understand that he _could_ come in if he wished? Or . . . maybe it was just an oversight. 

Though Severus really didn't seem the type to make a lot of those. 

Well, he hadn't said that Harry _had_ to go shower with him, had he? He'd left it up to Harry to do as he liked, apparently. 

So Harry had pulled on the robe Severus had left lying on the bed, and had gone off to his own rooms . . . no, no, the _upstairs_ rooms, he quickly corrected himself, and had his shower alone. 

As the warm water sprayed over him, he couldn't help but finger the metal half-disc that now hung beneath his left nipple. A slight tug on it told him that his nipple still had some healing to do. It wasn't precisely painful. The sensation was more like soreness, even when Harry twisted the disc a little bit, this way and that. He wasn't sure why he had a compulsion to touch the thing. Maybe to see that it really wouldn't come off. Or maybe, some part of him knew that it wouldn't. Which made it a part of him, didn't it . . . 

That idea was so uncomfortable that Harry tried his best not to touch the ring again, or even look at it as he lathered himself and washed his hair. Really, he tried not to even think about it. He went back to considering the fact that Severus had arranged for him to have plenty of privacy, right down to rooms for his use, even though they did have to live together. 

It was actually a pretty good arrangement, Harry thought as he pulled on a pair of dark blue denims and a T-shirt the same colour. He and Severus would sleep in the same bed, of course, but in the mornings Harry could come up here to get dressed and such. They wouldn't be stepping all over each other. So that was good . . . 

What wasn't so good was the fact that Severus was going to want them to do a lot more than _sleep_ in that bed downstairs. And Harry was supposed to want that, too. Severus actually had every reason to expect him to welcome it, considering how well they'd been getting on in those last few days before he'd gone to London. 

His fingers started trembling so much that he could barely tie the laces on his trainers. 

_It'll be all right,_ he told himself. _It's Severus, this time. He won't hurt you._

The strange part of that was that while Harry knew it was true, it didn't matter. Not one bit. He felt absolutely sick to his stomach at the thought of sex, even with Severus. He'd managed to put the feeling off--more or less--before the invocation, but that was probably because he'd known that the sex was going to get put off, too. Severus had said they would abstain. 

But that phase was over now. They'd invoked, and Harry was officially Severus' slave, and the next important thing they had to do was transfer Vol . . . no, no, the _Dark Lord's_ power from Severus to Harry. And that was going to require not just sex, but actual penetration. 

Harry clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head. He couldn't. He knew he couldn't bear it. Not for one second, not after what Bole and Talmadge had done less than a week ago. He needed more time, right? Hell, anybody would. But Harry was out of time! 

Or . . . maybe not. When it came to sexual matters, Severus really _was_ pretty considerate. Harry would have to be an idiot not to have realised that much. And Harry had just come _four times_ the night before. He was astonished just thinking about it. Three times in the ritual bath . . . you'd have thought that would be enough, right? But _no,_ Harry had for some reason climaxed wildly just from Severus kissing him, and what was worse, he'd done it with Dumbledore and Mr Weasley both watching. 

But anyway, he'd come enough the night before that it would be a bit much to expect him to want sex tonight, right? _Right?_ Actually, Harry wasn't sure if Severus would see things that way, but he did think that he could sell the other man on the idea. So that would take care of tonight, at least. And tomorrow, he could say he felt a bit ill. 

An excuse like that wouldn't wash, not one night after another, but it ought to work at least once. 

So that would buy him two nights. 

After that, he'd have to think of something else. But soon . . . very soon, Harry knew . . . he'd have to find a way to endure it, instead of get out of it. It wasn't like he could put the sex off forever. If he could stop time so he never turned nineteen, maybe. But no, not even then. It wasn't just a case of getting that Sex Magic transferred from Severus to himself so he wouldn't die on his birthday. It was also the matter of crossing their powers. 

Yeah, so one way or another, Harry knew he had to get over this reluctance to be touched like that. 

But he didn't have to do it right away. Not as long as he could put Severus off with one excuse or another. 

So, tonight he'd be tired, and tomorrow he'd feel a bit under the weather, and the night after that, maybe he could take some sleeping potion or something. 

Harry nodded to himself. As plans went, these ideas weren't so brilliant. He knew that. But they were all he had. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 9:50 a.m.**

Severus was waiting breakfast for him, which really surprised Harry, though he had a feeling it probably shouldn't. 

"Anything in particular you fancy this morning?" 

Harry shook his head. He was determined not to worry about what the nights ahead might bring, but as much as he tried, he really couldn't help it. And as a result, he wasn't so hungry, though he knew better than to wallow in apathy. He'd eat, all right. He just didn't much care what. 

"I think something . . . celebratory is in order," murmured Severus. "So, perhaps . . ." 

He began ordering, but Harry paid so little attention that he started a bit when his plate of food arrived. Belgian waffles with three kinds of fruit and mounds of whipped cream. Severus' own portion, Harry noticed, lacked the cream, though it did have what looked like a fine dusting of sugar. 

"Looks good," said Harry, tucking in as if he really did have an appetite. He didn't want Severus asking questions. Though if he did, Harry could always just say he was bothered by the fact that he'd killed someone. He _was_ bothered, truth to tell. But it took a real back seat to everything else he had on his mind. 

It wasn't until he went to take a drink that he noticed Severus had ordered champagne. That struck Harry as distinctly weird. "Isn't it a little early in the day?" he asked, tapping the tall glass flute with a fingernail. 

Severus leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes somehow hooded. For just one second, Harry could have sworn that Severus was nervous and trying not to show it. But that idea was plainly ridiculous, so Harry dismissed it out of hand. 

"If you'd prefer something else, I'm certain you remember how to instruct the elves." 

"I didn't mean anything bad," said Harry, sensing that he'd offended Severus somehow. Well, the other man had intended to arrange a celebration. And one was probably appropriate. What they'd done the night before was practically a prelude to defeating Vol . . . _the Dark Lord._ Maybe wine was in order. Harry sipped at his. "Oh. As wines go, this isn't so bad. Is it French?" 

Severus drank half his glass before he answered. "Yes, from the Champagne region of the country, hence the name. Properly, a wine like this shouldn't be called champagne unless it's from there." 

Two things about that speech struck Harry as odd. It was more information than he'd asked for, and he couldn't hear any derision in Severus' voice. At what had been a bit of a silly question, he now realised. Most of the wines Severus had served him _were_ French, after all. 

Oh . . . the ritual bath. The babbling Harry had done. He'd said he'd like to feel like less of an idiot at table. Though most of what he'd said had been about . . . oh, God. Things he liked about Severus, and top of the list had been the man's enormous cock. 

Harry gulped the rest of his champagne, but it didn't get rid of the heat in his face. 

"Relax, Harry," a dry voice advised. "Everything is all right." 

"Yeah . . ." Harry cleared his throat. "I thought it would be a lot different from this, that's all. I hope this doesn't offend the rite or anything, but . . . I don't feel like I'm really your slave. Are you sure it worked?" 

"It worked." Severus paused. "What do you feel like, then?" 

"Just . . . myself. I expected to . . . I don't know. Sort of lose that, I guess." Harry gave a little shake of his head, trying to sort it all out. He knew he had to submit to Severus in order for them to cross powers. And not just sexual submission, either, though that was supposed to be "far and away" the most significant kind according to the précis. But maybe he could sort of build up to that by starting with something simpler. "Um . . . so what did you want me to do today, anyway?" 

Severus put his fork and knife down. "That's generally the sort of question we can do without, Harry." 

"I'm just trying to . . . er, get into the spirit of the thing." 

"Laudable," drawled Severus. "But I've no intention of assigning you duties, is that clear? If I need you to do something you can be sure I'll mention it, but in general, you're simply to live your life. You've stopped eating; have you had enough breakfast?" 

"Yeah," said Harry thickly, pushing back his chair. "I guess I'll take a walk around Hogwarts, then. I mean, if that's all right with you. Do I need permission to leave, something like that?" 

"No, certainly not, though it would be polite of you to inform me." As Harry stood up, though, Severus held up a hand. "For the moment, however, you really should stay. There are some matters to attend to." 

"Oh." Harry sank back down into his chair. It didn't seem like Severus wanted to boss him around, particularly, but if they were going to cross powers, Harry had to give in to the other man's wishes. Even though he'd much rather get away from it all for a while. That would just be a lie, though. No matter how long his walk, he'd have to return here, sooner or later, and face the fact that he _was_ a slave even if it was just . . . hard to believe it. 

"Sure," he said, trying to sound like he was really happy to do whatever Severus wanted. "Um . . . what matters?" 

"We need to find out as much as possible about the spell we're living under. I have a few . . . tests, in mind. But first, I've put some things away and I thought you should know where they are." 

"Uh . . . all right." Harry stood up when Severus did, and followed him out to the sitting room. "What things?" 

He couldn't be sure, but he almost thought he saw Severus smile, the expression a bit sly. But fleeting. "This, for example." Severus ran a finger along the top shelf of a bookcase, stopping when he reached the spine of a book Harry particularly remembered. _The photo album._ He felt a pang just looking at it. 

"You're going to keep it? I sort of thought you might want burn all the photos of James, at least. After what he did to you." 

"I'm not going to burn something important to you, Harry. Not without much better cause than that." 

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "But I . . . I know it's yours now," he said, trying to submit to that fact. He wasn't sure of much, but he did know that he couldn't own anything, ever again. "I know you can do what you want with all my . . . um, all that stuff." 

"I _am_ doing what I want," said Severus softly. 

Harry hadn't noticed him coming closer, but suddenly Severus was right there in front of him, bending his head to kiss him. He almost flinched back, but told himself that kissing was all right. It _was_ , actually. He'd liked it still, even after he'd got back from London. 

As long as it didn't become too sexual . . . 

But it didn't seem like Severus was trying to get him into bed. Not with a kiss like this, which was soft and gentle. It was more like comfort, and over fairly quickly besides. 

"Harry," he said as he stepped back, "I have wanted for a while to explain this to you, but it was best left until after the invocation. It was important that you go into the rite believing that you were giving your things to me." 

Harry blinked. "Wasn't I?" 

"You were, yes, of course. That's the way it has to be. And it's likely important that you continue holding to that perspective, but . . . well, perhaps you should just let me continue, Harry." 

Harry wasn't completely sure what was going on. "Uh . . . all right . . ." 

"As I was saying, then, I recently acquired this photo album." Severus plucked it from the shelf and extended it to Harry. "I only have so much shelf space." 

"You're a wizard; you can just spell some more--" 

"Harry," interrupted Severus, "I'd rather it be kept in my other rooms, if that's all right with you. Along with this mirror." Severus picked it up from where it was lying, flat on the same shelf, and handed it to Harry along with the photo album. "All right?" 

"All right," said Harry slowly, smiling a little as he began to understand what Severus was doing. He couldn't give Harry's things back, not properly. Harry wasn't allowed to own anything. But Severus could do the next best thing, which was to make sure Harry had full use of them. Harry hugged the book and mirror to his chest. "Thank you, Severus. Really." 

The other man shrugged. "You already know where I keep my brooms. I anticipate, though, that you'd prefer to coach Quidditch using the Firebolt?" 

Harry grinned. "Yeah, that works." 

"So borrow it as you have need. I certainly can't use two brooms. Come to think of it, I can't imagine needing two owls, either. Why don't you continue to use Hedwig, Harry? That way my other owl will be available whenever I might need her." 

Harry hadn't even known that Severus had an owl. "Sure. Sounds great, in fact." 

"Was it your practise to have her live in the Owlery, or with you?" 

"With me. But I had to destroy her cage, you know. That's all right; she'll come when I call--" 

"I doubt that, Harry," said Severus, moving a hand to grasp Harry's forearm. "She's attuned to magic." 

"Oh, she'll sense that I gave her away, right." Harry sighed. "Poor Hedwig. She'll probably never talk to me again. Well, not that she talks, but . . . I had her for an awfully long time." 

"Owls can be temperamental, but I'll tell her to answer to you. And if you would still like her to live with you, it should be a simple matter to get another cage." Severus nodded, the motion brisk. "A wizard slave without a wand wouldn't be much use at all, so I insist you use this one." 

He pulled Harry's wand from his pocket, and slipped it into Harry's instead. 

Pulling his arm free, Harry ran his hands up and down the wand. He'd known Severus would let him use it, of course. But still, holding it again . . . Harry had to clear his throat before he could talk. "Thanks," he said again. "Really, you're being just great about everything. I . . . I should have trusted you a lot sooner--" 

"You trusted me when it counted, which is all that truly matters," said Severus. "I have more to tell you, Harry." 

"Oh?" 

"Yes. I find myself in possession of a most remarkable map, along with an invisibility cloak. Items which you have both used and misused in the past, in my view." 

That dark gaze was boring into him, as if willing him to understand. Harry looked away. "Yeah. I guess it's a bit much to think you'd . . . uh, want me to keep those upstairs, too. It's all right, Severus." 

"It is a bit much," drawled Severus. "However, it's not lost on me that you might actually need those items at some point. You do seem to attract danger." 

Harry met the other man's gaze again. "I thought you thought I courted it." 

"Fine line," retorted Severus. "I've considered the matter for a good while. Being able to invoke . . . that demonstrated a vast deal of maturity on your part. So I have reached a compromise with myself. The map and cloak are in that trunk." He gestured towards it. "It's locked and warded, but it will open to you. I'd ask that you not fetch out either item unless you have a true need, and that you consult with me beforehand whenever possible." 

"And if it's not possible?" 

"The trunk's wardings will alert me whenever it is opened. Needless to say, if you use the items in a frivolous manner, I will have to reconsider these arrangements." 

It was more than Harry had ever expected. A lot more. "Thanks," he said again, beginning to feel a bit like a parrot. He couldn't help it, though.The hurt of giving his father's things away was much, much less, now. "I appreciate that, Severus . . . you treating me like an adult, even if I am your slave. I know you said you were going to, and I thought I believed it, but I didn't know you meant . . ." 

"I couldn't explain any earlier," Severus said quietly. "And you must remain clear that these things, all of them, are in fact mine. But there's nothing about _Podentes_ that keeps me from being . . . generous, with my slave." 

"I understand. It's like the rooms upstairs. Yours as well, I'm clear on it. But for me to use." 

"Exactly." Severus opened his mouth slightly, as if to speak, but he didn't say anything for a moment. Again, Harry had the strange impression that the other man was nervous. 

"Severus?" 

"There is something more." The man cleared his throat, speaking in a way that sounded rehearsed. "You are my slave, yes, and as such I'm responsible for your maintenance and support. Nothing can change that. However, there is ample historical precedent for slaves being trusted with a portion of their master's money, for any number of reasons. In our case, I've decided that it will soon grow tedious having you apply to me for funds every time you have some small need or other. Purchasing a new cage for Hedwig, for example. In that spirit, therefore . . ." 

Severus reached into his pocket again and pulled out something hard and small to place in Harry's hand. 

It was obviously a key, which made good sense considering what Severus had just said, but what stunned Harry was the fact that he recognised it. 

"This is . . . _my_ key," he breathed. 

"No, no, technically it's mine." 

"Oh yeah, of course." Harry smiled. "But it's . . . um, familiar." 

"Yes, well, I decided that a separate vault would be the simplest way to allot some funds for your use." Severus' eyes began glinting with humour. "Imagine my surprise when a vault became available, just when I needed one." 

"Yeah, imagine that," said Harry dryly. "I . . . I hardly know what to say." 

"Perhaps you should inquire as to the contents." 

Harry felt like that would be kind of rude. Kind of like how Dudley was always so greedy over gifts. But Severus wanted him to, so that probably made it all right. "What's in the vault, then?" 

"Just this." Severus summoned a piece of parchment. When Harry pressed his key into it, he saw that the full contents of his vault had been restored. Everything, right down to the Pursel rod. And every last Galleon. 

"Now I really don't know what to say," croaked Harry. "Um . . . I can just _spend_ this, as I like?" 

"As long as you behave like a young man of nearly nineteen, yes," said Severus, looking pleased. "It's my vault now, you realise. It's in my name and I will be receiving quarterly accountings, just as I do for my other vault. But you've had access to large amounts before without losing all judgment, so I don't anticipate there should be any need to change these arrangements." 

The date at the top of the Gringott's statement said that the arrangements had been in place for weeks. 

"I wish you could have told me--" Shaking his head, Harry started over. "I know you couldn't tell me. You're right; the spell might have read me wrong at the invocation. I mean . . . _all_ this. It's hard, even now, not to think of it as mine--" 

"I can always merge my two vaults," said Severus dryly. 

Harry could tell he was joking. Well, not quite joking. There were some teeth to the comment. But neither was Severus intending to do that . . . unless he had to. 

"That's all right. I can manage," said Harry, almost laughing, he was so happy. "I'll remember it's yours. Honest, I will." 

"I'm sure you will." 

Harry still didn't know what to say, but he suddenly knew what to do. Other than say _thanks_ another hundred times. "Wait a second," he said, then dashed back to the reading room where Severus kept his dining table. Damn. The elves had already cleared everything away. Well, that didn't matter so much. Harry tapped it and demanded two glasses of the same champagne as before. When they appeared, he snatched them up and went back out to the front room, where he gave one to Severus. 

He felt like giving the other man a quick kiss, too. Just a peck, really, to show him how much he appreciated all this. Severus didn't have to do it, after all. Not any of it. Well, except the wand and broom, Harry supposed. But the rest was pure consideration, something Harry really hadn't been expecting. Well, except in bed. 

_Bed_ , though, reminded Harry that a kiss might not be such a great idea. What if Severus took it wrong and started thinking it was sort of a promise for later on, for that night? What if . . . but no, Severus would understand when Harry said he was still worn out from the invocation. He wouldn't expect Harry to want to be sexual with him, not right away, not if Harry said he needed a little while to recover . . . 

So Harry went ahead and kissed Severus lightly, then stepped back. "I didn't much feel like celebrating, earlier, but now . . . I think a toast is in order," he said, raising his flute as he looked up into Severus' dark eyes. "Um . . . to the future?" 

"To the future," echoed Severus, looking pleased as he clinked their glasses together. His hair swayed as he tilted the glass and drank. "Quite a nice choice of wine." 

"Oh . . . it's just what you chose," said Harry, a little embarrassed. "I liked it too. So . . . what now? Can I go into Hogsmeade to get a cage?" 

"Perhaps later. First I'd like to find out as much as we can about the enchantment you're under. The mind bond, my level of control over your magic--" 

" _Compulsio_ ," added Harry, making a face. "But you know, I can throw off _Imperius,_ so . . ." 

"If you can throw off _Compulsio_ that would be very bad news, indeed." 

"I know . . . I just . . . I don't like it." 

Severus banished their glasses and took Harry by the forearms, his manner so serious that it seemed he was making a vow. Just as he'd done when he'd knelt before Harry and promised to bind himself as well. "I will not misuse it, Harry. I will not misuse _you_." 

"I believe you," said Harry, just as sincerely. "I do, really. I don't think I could have invoked this, otherwise." That was definitely the case, especially considering . . . Harry hurriedly brought his thoughts back to the present. "Um, don't you think we should see what the binding contract actually says? I'd hate to break it without knowing." 

"I'd like to see what it says, as well," murmured Severus. 

"You don't remember what you were thinking?" 

"Oh, I remember," drawled Severus, his voice deep with meaning. "What would I be thinking, when you'd just climaxed from my kiss alone?" 

Harry went hot all over. _This_ was all he needed, for Severus to think Harry was so . . . _hot and bothered_ by him that he couldn't withstand so much as a kiss without . . . "That was just the potion," he said, anxious to make Severus believe it. "I . . . I like kissing you but it's not usually as . . . intense as that. I just hope you didn't put that in the contract, that I have to come like that all the time--" 

"I doubt my most fervent subconscious desire was for you to develop a problem with premature ejaculation." 

Harry thought he sounded . . . well, not snide. But not too happy with the suggestion, either. "Well, how should I know what your most fervent subconscious desires would be? If you want the truth, I'm not so sure I even want to know what they are." 

"I'm reluctant to find out, myself," said Severus, sounding like he was holding in a sigh. 

"You're afraid of what you might have wished," Harry realised. Was that why Severus had seemed a little bit nervous all morning? 

" _Afraid_ overstates the case, but I suppose you're essentially correct." 

"How bad could it be?" asked Harry, though he thought it was a bit odd that he should have to be the one to do the consoling, here. He wasn't even sure, really, what Severus had to worry about. What did he stand to lose? Harry was the one who was going to have to comply with the terms, no matter what they were. 

"I suggest we find out," said Severus. "Shall we?" 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 10:26 a.m.**

Severus had fetched the contract while he was waiting for Harry to come back for breakfast, but he hadn't looked at it. Rather astute of the young man to realise that Severus was reluctant. It wasn't because of what Harry thought, of course. The terms weren't likely to be onerous, since that wasn't the kind of life he wanted for Harry.But what if they said something that hinted at his feelings for the young man? 

Or worse, stated them outright? 

Severus drew in a breath. He wasn't ready for Harry to know. Actually, he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready.Certainly, not before he could be sure that Harry cared for him, as well. Things were too one-sided, at the moment, but possibly after Harry developed some feelings of affection, Severus could mention that he, too . . . 

Of course, if the contract made his feelings plain for Harry to see, there'd be no need of any such mentions. Severus scowled, wishing he could keep the contract locked away from Harry's eyes. Not much point in wishing that, though. There was no possible way he could refuse to let Harry see the contract he'd signed. Harry had to know the terms of their binding if he was to comply with them. 

Severus sighed. If it came to a choice between protecting his secrets and protecting Harry from the wrath of a broken contract, there was no question which he would choose. _Harry_. 

Putting someone else's needs before his own . . . Severus wasn't used to that. He had a feeling, though, that it would become all too familiar. 

For now, though, it was simply uncomfortable. 

Harry followed him into his office and sat down in the chair he'd used the last time he was in here. Severus didn't want the desk between them, so he seated himself in the chair next to Harry, moving it so that he was somewhat facing the young man. 

The contract was on his desk, tightly scrolled. "Do you want me to read it first, or give it to you?" 

Harry glanced at it, his gaze troubled. Fear mixed with resignation. "Um . . . together, I think. Yeah, that'd be best." 

Nodding, Severus took up the contract and began to unroll it. 

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Looks awfully long. And legalistic, I guess is the word. You must have a pretty strange subconscious." 

"This first part reads like a standard preface to me," Severus murmured, scanning it. "The contract is re-iterating the conditions that in ancient cultures formed an inherent part of a _Podentes_ enslavement. Although it's expressed in the more modern language of contract that I'm familiar with." 

"You read it," said Harry, sighing and leaning back. "I'm getting a headache from the mice type." 

"Pardon?" 

Eyes closed, Harry waved a hand. "Fine print, I meant. Go on, then." 

Severus took a deep breath. "The willing supplicant whose name appears below agrees to henceforth live within the constraints of the _Cambiare Podentes_ enchantment, binding himself to its every requirement. Specifically, these are: To abide within the domicile or domiciles of the master wizard. To depend on the master wizard for all material needs such as food, clothing, and shelter. To yield himself to a compulsion charm whenever the master wizard so desires. To yield his magic when and as the master wizard sees fit to control it. To own nothing in his own right. To surrender himself to the master wizard's justice whenever so ordered. To forfeit all claims to any rights save those the master wizard chooses to grant him. To bond his mind to the master wizard's whenever circumstances warrant. To maintain absolute sexual fidelity with the master wizard. To be not just slave but body-slave, subject to the master wizard's every desire." 

There was dead silence in the room when Severus stopped reading. 

Harry, he noticed, seemed to be having a hard time finding words. Or at least he was opening his mouth and closing it without speaking. More than once. 

"Harry?" 

"I . . . oh my God, that sounds pretty damned hard to live under." 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "There's very little in there that wasn't covered in the précis." 

"Yeah, the précis that you _said_ was just you being angry? _That_ précis?" 

"Harry . . . what is bothering you? What specifically?" 

The young man looked away, his voice low and reluctant as he answered. "Subject to the master wizard's every desire, that's what." 

Severus felt a sense of déjà vu pass over him, but it seemed misplaced, to say the least. Weren't they past all that? 

"I mean . . ." He could actually see Harry's throat convulse as the young man swallowed. "Subject sounds . . . well, look. What if I just don't feel like it one night? I mean, no offence, but I can't be . . . uh, hot and bothered _all_ the time. Like today, for instance. After last night, I'm wrung pretty dry . . ." 

Severus leaned forward. "I think _subject_ means I can do as I like with you. But that's true in every realm, not just the sexual. It comes back to trust." Harry still looked uncertain--if not scared--which struck Severus as odd as he continued, "Harry, I have every intention of meeting your needs. I _do_ know there will be times when you aren't particularly inclined." 

"But won't the contract punish me for saying _no?_ " 

"I think not, as long as while you're saying it you're in fact aware that the decision isn't really yours." 

"Ugh," said Harry. "Trust, though. Yeah. I get it." He cleared his throat, his features still unnaturally pale. "Enough about that. There's something else that bothers me. I don't think the précis _ever_ mentioned that bit about justice." 

Severus frowned slightly. "In an offhand way, it did. I'm entitled to discipline you. I believe I was quite clear on that. The provision here . . . I suppose that's the contract's way of forcing a slave to accept punishment. If you should attempt to defy one I set down, the contract itself will punish you. In a much worse manner, no doubt." 

Harry visibly swallowed, but gave a jerky nod as though determined to see it through. "Yeah, no doubt. But the contract won't ever punish me then, as long as I do these things? Live in your . . . _domiciles_ and all the rest?" 

"Essentially, but you haven't heard the rest." 

"Oh. _Your_ desires . . ." Harry paused, but not for long. Sitting up straighter, he stared expectantly at Severus. "Let's see them, then." 

Severus unrolled the parchment to reveal more writing, moving it to where Harry could easily read it. 

_By inscribing his name below, the supplicant furthermore agrees to devote himself to the following specific conditions of enslavement:_

_Harry James Potter will henceforth, whenever practicable, sleep in Severus Snape's bed._

Alarmed, Severus shot a glance at Harry. The other man didn't seem to find the first condition revealing in any way, though. Harry was just quietly reading, his brow tensed in concentration. Nodding to himself, Severus looked back down at the contract. 

_Harry James Potter will refrain from discussing the intimate sexual details of his relationship with Severus Snape with outside parties, except in general terms to friends as needed to assure them that all is well, or in situations where dire need necessitates such confidences._

_Harry James Potter will do his best to remember that though he is a slave and therefore property, he is nonetheless still a person, and that Severus Snape wishes him to continue to be himself._

_Harry James Potter will battle no more dragons unless strictly necessary._

_Harry James Potter will consult with Severus Snape whenever possible before making any decisions of a profound, life-altering nature._

_This concludes this binding magical contract, entered into upon this day the seventeenth of June in the common calendar year of one thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight._

Below the text was Harry's signature scrawled across the parchment. 

Severus read the whole thing again while he waited for Harry to give some reaction. All in all, he supposed the terms didn't give away too much about his feelings, though the one about dragons could be read a number of ways. If Harry remarked on it, Severus would say that of course he wouldn't want Harry to die before he'd defeated the Dark Lord . . . 

"Well," said Harry after a moment more. "I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't really . . . _this._ " 

Perhaps the terms were more revealing than Severus had realised. He braced himself for the worst. "What do you mean?" 

Harry smiled, just a little. "Well, the preface there is a bit harsh about things, but your part, Severus . . . for every rule I have to follow there's some sort of an escape clause. I have to sleep in your bed _whenever practicable,_ and not talk to Hermione about our um . . . sex life unless there's some _dire need_ , and on and on. You even gave me an out on the dragons!" 

"Well, one never knows when it will in fact be necessary to battle a dragon . . ." 

"Yeah . . . but what I meant was . . . if this is all subconscious--" 

Severus felt himself tensing yet again. 

"--then you must really want to be sure the contract never punishes me, right? Because not a single one of these is an absolute requirement. You allowed for circumstances." 

Severus let out a breath. Harry was observant. Analytical, even, but he didn't seem to have read anything much into the contract. Which was all to the good. "Are there any terms you wish to discuss, or are they all clear to you?" 

"Perfectly clear," said Harry, running a finger down the parchment as he read them over again. "Your own potion must have done its job. You know, sorting out what you wanted so there'd be no confusion." 

"No, there's no confusion," said Severus dryly. He did know what he wanted, and it wasn't merely for Harry to avoid dragons. Not much point in dwelling on it. Harry already did respect him; that much was clear from his comments during the ritual bath. If that respect could grow into something more like regard, or even affection . . . well, only time would tell. "If you're ready, then, we should learn what we can about the spell." 

"Yeah, of course." Harry leaned back in his chair, though he didn't seem relaxed at all. " _Compulsio,_ then? How does that work?" 

"Like most spells, with an incantation." Severus drew out his wand and considered what he should demand of Harry. Any test of the spell wouldn't mean much unless he asked for something Harry would normally be reluctant to do. The difficult part of that was that Severus had no desire to humiliate or anger Harry. He didn't actually want to make him do anything. But they needed to know if _Compulsio_ would work. So perhaps . . . 

_"Compulsio,"_ incanted Severus, moving his wand through the air in a Z shape. Harry didn't appear to change much, though his eyes did glaze over just a little bit. "Harry . . . list Draco Malfoy's good points." 

Harry hesitated a moment, as if trying to resist. Using the same technique, perhaps, that worked with _Imperio_. But this enchantment, bound as it was to the slavery spell, gave him no chance to throw it off. After just a few seconds, he opened his mouth. 

"He does know how to dress well, I suppose," Harry said, the sound of his voice harsh and grating, like the words were being dragged from him. "And he has a nice accent. And . . . well, that's it, actually. There's nothing else." 

Severus nodded. "Fine, then. Harry . . . try to cancel the spell yourself." 

Harry drew his wand and cast a _Finite_ , but then shook his head. "I can still feel it." 

" _Finite Incantatem,_ " said Severus. "And now?"" 

""It's gone." Harry blew out a breath, scowling. "List Draco Malfoy's good points? That's low. That's _below_ low." 

"It had to be something you truly didn't wish to do, for it to be a valid test. Can you describe the spell to me?" 

The young man's scowl faded a little. "You were right. It's not like _Imperio_ at all. That one sort of . . . clouds your mind so you want to do what you're told. You can't think about anything else . . . this one, I don't know. My own thoughts didn't seem affected. I knew I didn't want to go on about Malfoy. But . . . I knew I had to do what you wanted. It was more like I was making myself obey than I was being controlled. If that makes sense." 

"It does." It wasn't lost on Severus that he no longer needed _Veritaserum_ to force the truth out of Harry. Much as in the ritual bath . . . but that had been happenstance. He hadn't even realised in advance that Harry would babble out all his secrets like that. Using _Compulsio,_ though . . . no. Severus told himself he wouldn't do it. He couldn't imagine that repeatedly forcing confidences would accomplish anything except to alienate Harry. 

But as with the contract, he found himself providing himself a way out. He wouldn't use _Compulsio_ to question Harry unless it should prove absolutely necessary . . . 

"The next thing we should test is magical limitations," said Severus, forcing himself to move past the disturbing spectre of Harry furious over misuse of the obedience spell. "I should now possess inherent control of your magic." 

Severus hardly expected the reminder to cheer Harry, and indeed it didn't. The young man scowled again. "Yeah . . . I can't do spells you disapprove of." 

"I can also close off access to your magic entirely." No point in flinching from that, thought Severus; it was simply the truth. "My research would indicate that it's merely a matter of my will. So . . . attempt a spell now, Harry. Something simple." 

Harry pointed his wand at the small fireplace in the office. " _Incendio!_ " 

Nothing happened. 

"Well, that's pretty damned frightening," said Harry in a voice that sounded like it was level only with great effort. "Um, can I have it back, now?" 

"Yes." Severus concentrated for a moment. "Try again." 

That time, Harry's spell, delivered with far more force than normal, caused considerably more than a spark in the grate. 

"No need to over-react," murmured Severus. 

"Ha. _You_ try having somebody else in charge of your spell-casting, and we'll see how well you handle it!" 

Severus crossed one leg over the other. "I see your point, but--" 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," interrupted Harry. "What is, _is._ Don't mind me, Severus. It's a shock, but I'll get used to it. Anyway, what about that deal about how I can't do magic you wouldn't want done? How does that work? Do you have to follow me around _willing_ me to cut this or that out?" 

"I doubt I should need to supervise you in that manner. I suspect it's more a matter of your conscience intervening. For example . . ." Pausing, Severus summoned a heavy volume from the shelves behind his desk. The leather binding was worn, and the letters on the spine were faint. It looked old and well-thumbed. 

"This was handed down to me from my great-great-great-great-great grandmother," said Severus, running a finger along the spine. "It's comprised of her research journals. Her expertise, like mine, was in potions. In fact, she developed entire classes of potion still in use today." 

"Must be nice to have things handed down like that," said Harry slowly. 

"Yes." Severus laid the book on the desk beside him. "Cast _Incendio_ on it." 

Harry glanced up, clearly startled. "Why would you want me to-- oh, I get it. You _don't_ want me to." 

"I'll make no effort to stop you as I did before, though. We'll see if your own conscience will intervene. It may not. It's not lost on me that you are not in fact the weak wizard _Podentes_ was designed to help." 

"Weak wizard," muttered Harry, the sound of the words bitter, somehow. 

"But you aren't," repeated Severus firmly. He could understand why Harry might feel dispirited, certainly. Waking up with the knowledge that you had overnight become a slave couldn't be pleasant. "Harry? Try your very best to destroy this book. We must understand how this spell will affect your magic." 

"Yeah, all right." He pointed his wand. "Don't blame me if this actually works. _Incendio!_ " 

But it didn't work. Harry's wand didn't even spark and fizzle. It was as though he were holding an ordinary stick and pretending to be a wizard. 

"Ah. Well, that part of the spell seems to be well in place, then." Severus wasn't sure what to think. He was certainly relieved that the book hadn't been damaged, but some part of him would rather Harry's enslavement be something less restrictive. Then again, if he was only restrained from doing magic Severus would disapprove of, that wasn't such a terrible imposition, was it? Severus wouldn't have to worry as much about Harry getting into ridiculous mischief . . . 

"What would happen if you cast _Compulsio_ over me to make me do it, but you didn't _want_ me to do it?" 

"I have no idea. Didn't I tell you it was not sound practice to swim against a magical tide? That sort of experiment might be dangerous. And I can't see what useful information we would glean." 

"All right. Just wondering, you know." Harry glared slightly. "You're not the one with your magic all messed up." 

"Yours is not _messed up_ ," Severus retorted, though he could see why Harry might feel that way. Maudlin thoughts though, wouldn't help them through this. "I think we should now attempt to locate any mind bond that may have formed. Think about something unusual, Harry." 

Severus wasn't sure what the look on Harry's face might mean, but trying to find out by reading the young man's mind was of no use at all. He couldn't sense a thing. 

"Maybe _Legilimens?_ " said Harry. 

"I shouldn't need that with you, not now." Though it did bring up a salient point. "Are you Occluding, Harry?" 

"Yeah. Not to block you, so much. I just _do_ that now. All the time, pretty much. I don't even think about it anymore." 

"Ah. Well that shouldn't be a factor either, but as I'm having no success sensing this bond, why don't you stop Occluding for a moment and we'll see what difference that might make?" 

"All right." 

Severus probed again, reaching out with his thoughts, trying to sense Harry's. If only the ancient literature had been more clear about what the mind bond _was_ , or how to utilise it . . . again, he found absolutely no trace of any connection between their minds. Odd, really. Well, perhaps Harry's inherent magical strength was obstructing it. 

Severus was about to say as much when all such thoughts were stolen away by the brief flare of pain in his left forearm. Startled, he jerked back in his chair. 

"Does the bond hurt?" asked Harry, who clearly had no idea what was wrong. 

"The Dark Lord is calling me," explained Severus as he stood up to go. 

"Oh, God," said Harry, his voice sounding thick. Jumping to his feet, Harry grabbed at Severus' sleeve, twisting his fingers tightly around the fabric. "Don't go. What do you want me to do, beg?" 

Severus took Harry's wrist and pulled the young man's hand away from his sleeve. "I have to go, Harry." 

"You're mad! You're _mental!_ " insisted Harry, raising his voice. "It's just the day after, Severus! Why would he call you _now_ except because he's found out somehow, about us?" 

"Harry, I must go _now!_ " said Severus. "If I arrive too late he's apt to curse first and ask questions afterwards. You're to stay here at Hogwarts, is that clear? Don't come after me, don't set one foot outside the castle! You may go and tell Albus I've been summoned, but other than that, do _nothing_ about the matter." 

Harry just glared at him, fists clenched. 

Severus gnashed his teeth. "Do I have to cast _Compulsio_ to make you obey me in this?" 

"You're really a bastard sometimes--" 

" _Do_ I?" 

"No, damn it!" Harry looked like he might hit somebody. "If you're so determined to throw yourself off a cliff, then who am I to stop you? Nobody! Just some _slave_ you can order around and threaten! Well? _Go_ then. If you're going at all, you'd better not be late, like you said!" 

"Harry, it's for your safety I said that--" 

"Yeah, it's for my own good. Just like when I got shoved headfirst under the stairs, it was for my _own fucking good_ \--" 

Being compared to the Dursleys did nothing positive for Severus' temper. He had a sudden wild, violent urge to lash out at Harry. That was startling in of itself, and unwelcome. What was much worse was that the impulse toward dominance was accompanied by the sensation of his cock stirring. For a moment, Severus told himself it wasn't true. He didn't want to think of sex at a time like this. 

But then he understood . . . the dark elements in _Podentes_ were doing this. 

Severus shuddered slightly, even as his cock hardened further, as against his will he imagined throwing Harry to the floor and making him take back those ugly words . . . 

Perhaps it was just as well he'd been called away. 

"When I go spy on the Dark Lord, it _is_ for your own good," Severus said coldly as he drew his wand. "We'll talk about it after I return. _Accio_ robe and mask." 

Death Eater regalia flew through the open door and into his hands. Rushing out to his parlour, Severus grabbed a nondescript robe off a hook and donned it, wrapping it around the Death Eater clothes. He'd put them on when he reached the Disapparation boundary. 

At the door of his quarters, he turned back, wanting to say one more thing to Harry. He wasn't sure what, though. 

Harry made a sarcastic gesture as though telling him to go on and get lost. 

Irritated, Severus pulled open the door, stepped through, and slammed it. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 10:47 a.m.**

Harry stared at the door, the thud of it closing still echoing in the dungeon rooms. Part of him wanted to fling it open and rush down the hall after Severus. Grab his sleeve--hell, both his sleeves, this time--and make him stay. Make him listen to reason. 

But what good would that do? He _wouldn't_ listen. Likely, the only thing Harry would accomplish would be to get himself put under _Compulsio_ so he'd stop interfering. 

And if he caused Severus to arrive late, and Severus ended up being punished for it . . . 

No, Harry wouldn't want to be responsible for something like that happening. 

For all that though, Harry would have still gone out there if he thought he could _stop_ the man. But since he couldn't, objecting further would just make everything ten times worse. Not exactly a brilliant way to begin his new life with Severus. 

Sighing, Harry went over to the Floo. He was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to just barge into the headmaster's office without good reason, but this seemed like reason enough to him. He just hoped that Dumbledore hadn't stayed at the Ministry to conduct other business that morning. 

Tossing in the powder, Harry flooed on up. 

When he spun out from the flames, the headmaster was behind his ornate desk, his hat askew as he bent over to scratch something onto a parchment. The old wizard's eyes went wide as Harry stumbled forward. 

"I must say I didn't expect to see you so soon after the invocation, Harry," he mildly greeted him. "But you are welcome here, anytime, anytime at all. Of course." And then, after a second's pause, "Whatever is the matter?" 

Harry had to suck in a breath before he could speak. "Severus just got summoned!" 

"No wonder you look so shocked." Dumbledore made a soft clicking noise with his tongue. "Come, have a seat, Harry. Would you like another cup of that fairy-raised tea you enjoyed here not so long ago?" 

_Not so long ago . . ._ It seemed like an aeon had passed since then. 

"No, thanks." Actually, Harry was pretty sure he'd smash any teacup that purred in his palm at the moment. "Didn't you hear me? _Severus just got summoned!_ " 

"I heard you, yes. But Harry, Severus is summoned on a fairly frequent basis. I doubt it's anything you need to worry yourself about." 

Harry just about goggled. "Yeah, well it's not fairly frequent that he gets summoned the day after he gets _me_ irrevocably bound to him!" 

"True, but Voldemort has no way of knowing about that." Dumbledore smiled, the expression soft and sympathetic. "He has no reason to believe that you and Severus are . . . involved, in any way." 

_Yes, he does,_ Harry thought, a fresh surge of horror washing through him. _Bole and Talmadge._ Had the other Death Eaters heard any part of what Bellatrix had been saying to Harry, about how he was "sweet on Severus?" 

Oh God, what if _that_ was the reason Severus had just been summoned? What if Bole and Talmadge had reported Bellatrix's death, and they'd said-- 

Wait, _wait._ Harry's thoughts came to a screeching halt as he realised he was jumping to some pretty wild conclusions. Severus being called couldn't have anything to do with what had happened almost a week ago in London. Why would the Death Eaters have waited several days to report in? If they were going to mention the matter at all, they'd do it right away, surely? Especially as their master was known to not appreciate lateness? 

Anyway, if Bole and Talmadge reported that Harry had killed Bellatrix, wouldn't they have to explain that the three of them had had Harry Potter within their grasp, and instead of killing him or turning him in, they'd let him get away? 

Harry had a hard time imagining anyone confessing _that_ to Voldemort. 

So probably Dumbledore was right. It was just a coincidence, Severus being summoned this morning. Not that that made Harry feel _very_ much better. Oh God, what was happening to Severus? Harry had seen enough Death Eater meetings in his dreams that he knew how ugly they could get. 

He'd finally learned to Occlude and put an end to such dreams, but his mental discipline wasn't helping now. All Harry could think about was a circle of masked and robed men and their red-eyed leader. And Severus, pretending to be loyal . . . 

Harry hurriedly doubled his Occlumency, just to be on the safe side. Actually, he was a tiny bit tempted to drop it so that he could see what was happening at the meeting, but he knew better than to open his mind to Voldemort's probing. Especially now. 

Definitely, what he needed was something to distract him. Well, there were things he'd been meaning to ask Dumbledore, anyway. 

"Um . . . have you heard anything yet, about Bellatrix Lestrange getting killed?" 

Dumbledore stroked his beard, his expression thoughtful. "Indeed not, Harry. I would expect Voldemort to retaliate in some way for the death of one of his most loyal followers. His total silence on the subject leads me to suspect he doesn't yet know about it, let alone your involvement." 

Harry sat back with a sigh. "You'd think he'd notice she's missing. But maybe he doesn't keep such close tabs on his followers. Huh. So, is the Tower Bridge repaired and all that, then?" 

"Oh, yes. Aurors restored the structure and cast memory charms over that section of London, and the Ministry made sure the matter was reported as a large-scale traffic accident." 

"They're investigating it, though, I guess?" 

Dumbledore popped a sweet into his mouth, and held an orange dish of them out to Harry, who shook his head. "I get the sense that the Ministry is puzzled. Voldemort has yet to claim responsibility, you see. At this point, I rather suspect Bellatrix was working on her own, perhaps because she's simply insane or perhaps, as a means of impressing Voldemort." 

_Not on her own,_ thought Harry. _She had those other two at her beck and call. But if the bridge wasn't an official assignment, then they wouldn't have any reason to report in. Ha, if they were working for Bellatrix, then I bet they're sort of low-level Death Eaters. Maybe they don't get summoned very often._

"You look troubled, Harry," said the headmaster in a soothing voice. "Really, you must have more faith in Severus. He's been dealing falsely with Voldemort for many years. He knows very well what he's about." 

"Yeah," said Harry thickly. "But don't you think it's too great a risk? If Severus gets caught spying _now_ , it'll mean I have nobody to cross powers with! He'd listen to you if you told him to stop." 

"You might be surprised," murmured the headmaster. "Severus can be quite stubborn even with me." 

Harry grimaced. He could see how that might be true. 

"There's nothing to do now but wait, Harry," continued the headmaster. "So perhaps while we wait we could discuss another matter. I believe Severus will by now have acquainted you with news of your employment?" 

Harry resolutely tried to think about that, and nothing else. "Oh, yeah. I thought it was brilliant, all of it. And I was really relieved since, um, before that I didn't know what I'd be doing day after day. It's good of you to take me on staff, sir." 

"Nonsense." Dumbledore beamed, the lines around his eyes deepening in an expression of pleasure. "You'll be a fine asset to the school. It's good of you to take us on." 

"I didn't exactly have a choice," said Harry dryly. Then, realising that had come out wrong, he quickly added, "But I'm really happy, all the same. I mean, over the moon. Really. Especially about Quidditch. Not that I don't like Defence, but . . ." 

"But?" 

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, maybe we could talk a little bit about Defence, actually. See, I'm sure Severus will get me ready for whatever I have to do to fight Vol . . . um, the Dark Lord--" 

"You don't think you should continue to call him Voldemort, as you always have?" 

"Severus says not to." 

"Ah." Dumbledore frowned a little, but nodded. 

Harry frowned too. It was embarrassing to be caught out obeying Severus like that. Maybe that was just because Dumbledore knew Harry was a slave. But Harry supposed he would just have to get used to that. At least the headmaster wasn't treating him any differently than usual. Severus wasn't, either. Things could be an awful lot worse. 

"Anyway, I'm sure Severus will teach me things and help me train and all that," continued Harry, trying not to think about how Severus might be faring at the meeting. "But I think I'd learn Defence a lot better if I also had a really skilled teacher to work with. I mean, besides Severus. And, no offence, but this school has a track record of hiring Death Eaters and idiots and Ministry plants. Well, at least Umbridge was foisted onto you. I get that, but the others? I mean, really, Remus Lupin was the only decent teacher in the lot, and you only hired him because you were trying to help defend me against Sirius, right? I mean, back when everybody hated him, you thought it'd be good to have Remus to stand between us if Sirius came after me?" 

"That was my main reason for selecting him, yes." Dumbledore nodded calmly. "What about your teachers since Umbridge, Harry? Were they equally useless?" 

"Not as horrible as before, but not very good." Harry felt a little bad about complaining, but this was too important to just ignore. 

"Well, nothing can be done about the past. At least, not in the normal course of events. So I suggest we leave all that behind and simply concentrate on selecting a fine Defence instructor for the coming school term. The fact that the position's been cursed hardly helps, you understand. By now it's common knowledge that the Defence position is not, shall we say, a sound career track." 

"I guess that would be a problem." 

"Well, we shall do our best." Dumbledore smiled again. "Perhaps you'd like to help me interview the candidates, Harry? As you're to work quite closely with the teacher in question, I'd think it would be wise to get someone you can truly respect." 

Harry blinked, startled. "Of course I'd like to. I just hope we get somebody halfway decent to apply. I hadn't thought about the curse before, how it might make things awkward . . ." 

"Here," said Dumbledore, snapping his fingers to summon a stack of parchments from inside a drawer. "These will help acquaint you with the witches and wizards who have expressed interest." 

"You've already started advertising?" 

"No, but Professor Sandpiper's unfortunate run-in with those carnivorous plants was well-reported. Why don't you take these to read, and let me know which candidates you believe we should interview?" 

Harry's nod was a little hesitant. "Well, I wasn't trying to . . . um, take over, you know." 

"Ah, but after your experience leading Dumbledore's Army, I expect you have a fine eye for what it takes to teach Defence, my boy." 

"Well . . . all right, then." Harry took the parchments the headmaster was trying to hand him. "Thanks, Professor Dumbledore." 

"Oh, I think now that you're to be on staff you can call me Albus." 

Harry smiled at that. "Albus. Yeah, that works. Say, can you give me a guest pass to the library?" 

"Oh, yes, certainly." Albus fished in a drawer and handed Harry a small, jagged rock. "There you are." 

Harry stared at it, bemused, then shoved it in a pocket. "Um . . .thanks. So then, you have work to do, I think? I'll just go wait for Severus down below--" 

"Harry," said the headmaster softly, "you're perfectly welcome to wait here with me. I have nothing pressing." 

Harry swallowed. He didn't exactly feel like he'd worn out his welcome, but he didn't have much of anything else to say, either. He still sort of hated the way Dumbledore had agreed so easily to Harry becoming a slave. Not that there'd been any other choice but . . . still. 

Now that his first surge of worry over Severus being summoned was over, he didn't want to stay here and pretend to make polite chit-chat. 

"I think I'll just go, sir. I mean, Albus. I'll get started reading these." He stood up, the parchments bundled against him. "They'll help me keep my mind off . . . yeah." 

"As you wish, Harry, as you wish." Albus stood and walked him to the Floo. "Now, I understand of course that Severus must be your first resort whenever you need anything. But Harry? I am still here to talk with you if ever you have anything you'd like to discuss. Do you understand?" 

Harry sighed. "I'm fine. It's just . . . an adjustment, you know? But Severus isn't being horrible to me, or anything like that." 

The headmaster's eyes glimmered. "Oh, I'm certain he's not. Though of course he still will have his moods. Severus can be quite moody at times." 

Harry started feeling like if he wasn't careful, he might break that term in the contract, the one that said he wasn't to discuss his relationship with Severus with anyone, except in general terms. 

"Yeah, well we all have good days and bad days," he quickly said. "So, I'll let you know what I think about these applicants. See you later!" 

Harry flooed out before the headmaster could say anything else. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 3:13 p.m.**

The papers shouldn't have taken so long to read, Harry thought ruefully as he shoved away his lunch. Ever since he'd left the headmaster's office, he'd been restless and unable to properly concentrate. Thinking a change of scenery would help, he'd taken them to the upstairs rooms and opened the window wide so he could get plenty of fresh air and sunshine as he read, but his thoughts still kept straying to the Death Eater meeting. Why was it taking so long? 

Not that Harry had any clear idea how long it _should_ be taking. 

When hanging about upstairs hadn't helped in the least, Harry had gone back into the dungeons. Maybe a darker, more serious atmosphere would help him study the papers, he'd told himself. Sort of like in the library. 

But it hadn't helped, so after a while he'd given up and ordered some food. Nothing much, just some soup. He didn't think he could manage anything more, not while he was so worried. Damn it, had he gone through everything, right through the invocation itself, only to end up dead on his birthday after all, because he _still_ hadn't got the one thing that was supposed to protect him from the prophesied attack? 

_Severus' semen, inside his body. A particular part of his body . . ._ Harry all of a sudden felt so angry he couldn't stand it. Didn't he have enough to be going on with? He'd been brutally assaulted just the week before! You'd have thought that would be plenty to have to deal with. But not for him! No, _he_ had to make sure he got himself fucked up the arse by Severus as soon as possible, so that _next time_ the man insisted on going to a meeting to get himself killed, Harry would at least be ready for whatever happened on the 31st of July! 

Harry began pacing, stomping his way between tower and dungeons as if he was entirely used to these strange living arrangements. 

_I have to get out of here for a while,_ Harry suddenly thought. _It's murder just waiting. So, I'll pop into Hogsmeade, get that cage, then go over to the Owlery and see if Hedwig will talk to me . . ._

But all that was forbidden for the moment. Severus had said to stay in the castle. And Harry had to do it, didn't he? He was a _slave_. He wasn't allowed to do as he pleased or think for himself or-- 

The noise of something falling against the front door to Snape's quarters snapped Harry out of his frantic thoughts. 

"Severus!" he shouted, running to the door and yanking it open. 

The Potions Master fell inside, his robes all askew, his eyes bloodshot in a stark, white face as he fell to the floor, landing on his side. Severus looked up at Harry for one moment and groaned, then slumped, unconscious. 

_Cruciatus_ , thought Harry as he reached out his hands to pull Severus completely into the rooms. He tried to remember what Pomfrey had done for him, right away that night when he'd been in such bad shape, but it was all one long blur. Getting Severus into bed though, that had to be a good first step, right? The floor wasn't so likely to be comfortable when your nerve endings felt charred and frayed. 

Harry tugged and pulled, dragging Severus by the shoulders. God, the man was heavy for someone so lean! Only when he was halfway to the bedroom did it occur to him to use magic. Feeling like a perfect idiot, Harry whipped out his wand and used a feather-light charm before he levitated the man over to the bed. 

He had no idea what to do after that, as this didn't seem the kind of situation where you checked for fever or something. 

Hurrying over to the Floo, Harry tossed in a pinch of powder and yelled for Albus Dumbledore. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 3:17 p.m.**

Harry leaned against the wall in Severus' bedroom, his hands shoved down into his pockets as he watched the headmaster wave his wand back and forth over the Potions Master's limp body. 

"Extended _Cruciatus_ , I would say," Albus quietly said after a moment. His blue eyes were sad as he turned towards Harry. "More than I've ever seen him endure before." 

"More than I had, then?" asked Harry, biting his lip. 

Albus' quiet nod said that Harry's torture by Bellatrix didn't even come close. But that made sense, considering Snape had been cursed by a wizard much more powerful than Bellatrix would ever be. 

"Oh, _God._ " 

Severus looked not just pale now, but waxy as well, like some dead thing. Harry settled his hand across the man's forehead, almost expecting him to feel . . . _coated_ with something. Severus' skin didn't feel clammy though; it just felt cold. 

Harry yanked his hand back and started staring at the man's chest. Was it moving? _Was he breathing?_ "He's not dead, is he?" he gulped out in a panic. 

"No, no, nothing of the sort," said Albus softly, casting a warming charm that Harry saw settle atop Severus like a blanket before all visual trace of it vanished. Not even the fact that the blanket had been a ghostly blue with golden _bunnies_ prancing across it could make Harry smile now. 

"How can you tell?" 

Albus tucked his wand away. "I have an instinct for it. Severus will need some time to recover but nothing that's been done to him is likely to cause permanent damage." The headmaster's voice grew grim. "As insane as he no doubt is, Voldemort knows better than to ruin a resource he may wish to tap again." 

"Again," Harry said thickly as he took a deep breath. "We can't let Severus go through something like this again!" 

Albus didn't answer that, though his worried blue gaze said that he tended to agree. _But Severus is stubborn,_ Harry remembered. As if he'd needed to be told a thing like that. 

"Let's just get him well first, and then deal with everything else," said Albus, sighing. "Severus needs a good deal of rest, along with the potions he keeps on hand for such situations. He's lucky to have you here to help him. Most of the time he simply shifts for himself." 

Harry pushed off the wall. "He doesn't go to the hospital wing when it's open?" 

Albus shook his head. "Secrecy, Harry. I've come down here a time or two, but Severus made it quite clear he could manage on his own. I've a feeling he'll take help from you, however." 

"Oh, sure he will." 

"I'm not saying he'll be pleasant about the matter, mind you." 

Harry chewed his lip. "I wouldn't know the first thing to do. Can't we firecall Milan and get Madam Pomfrey back?" 

"Best not to involve her, I think." Albus patted Harry on the shoulder, his touch communicating faith and reassurance. "Start with the bottle marked for _Cruciatus_. There should only be one, a special blend . . . you do know how to enter Severus' potions laboratory?" 

"Yeah, he taught me a little while back." 

"A full dose is a teaspoon but given the severity of his condition, I believe he should have a double dose to begin. And after that . . . just don't let his temper bother you, Harry. Severus is thoroughly foul when he's ill, and worse when he's forced to be idle. But he must rest. Allow him no compromise on that score." 

Harry almost gave a bitter laugh at that. "Like it's up to me. I'm not in charge down here!" 

"Oh, yes, indeed you are. For the moment, at least. Harry, you may belong to Severus now, but that just makes your duty to him all the more clear. Keeping faith with him means that you will see to his needs at a time like this whether he appreciates it or not. Do you see my point?" 

The funny thing was, Harry did. "Yeah, all right. He needs help so . . . right." 

"You must firecall me if you have any questions--" 

"Wait, you're _going?_ " Something hot rose inside of him. Panic, that was it. He couldn't handle this all on his own! He really _didn't_ know what to do, whatever the headmaster had said about it being a matter of rest and potions. 

"I truly think I must. Severus wouldn't want me here--" 

"Oh, please. You honestly think he wants _me_ here?" 

Dumbledore, Harry thought, looked about to answer that directly, but appeared to change his mind. "You belong here now, Harry. Severus knows that. And if anything unforeseen develops, I am only a firecall away, as I said." 

"Fine, fine," grumbled Harry. "Just wait here with him for a second while I get the potion he needs. In case he starts to thrash or . . . oh, I don't know!" Harry left the room. 

He stopped in front of the statue of the snake climbing a column and muttered the charm that would make the wall behind it vanish. Nonsense words, really. What Harry had thought was some fancy ancient language had turned out to be Severus' idea of how to keep his private space private. He'd made up a password no one could ever guess, since it meant precisely nothing, in any language. 

Talk about paranoia. 

Once inside the lab Harry couldn't help but remember the last time he'd been in there. The Dragon's Happy. Severus' hair . . . actually, the man's hair was nice whether Harry was on Dragon's Happy or not. Harry could admit that now. But the Dragon's Happy sure had helped make the invocation a success. Otherwise, Harry would have remembered about Bole and Talmadge . . . 

No time to think about that now, Harry hurriedly told himself, though some part of him knew he just didn't _want_ to think about it. 

The bottle, when he found it, was a tall triangular flask made of dark brown glass, as if light might damage the potion within. When Harry uncorked it and gave it a whiff, he realised it was nothing like the nerve restoratives he'd got from Pomfrey earlier that week. 

He found a drawer with teaspoons made of various materials and decided he'd better use the glass one, as that substance was the least likely to alter the potion's properties. 

_See, I did learn something in your stupid class, _Harry thought. 

Back in the bedroom, Harry showed the bottle to the headmaster. "Yes, that's the one," murmured Albus. "That will help tremendously." 

"I didn't have anything like this one, though, after all that _Cruciatus_ last week--" 

"Ah, but you haven't been subjected to . . ." 

"Oh," said Harry, suddenly understanding why the headmaster wasn't meeting his eyes. He must know about Severus and Voldemort and the sex magic that had bound them together . . . the sex magic that _Cambiare Podentes_ was going to put an end to. "Yeah, all right. This one's special, just for Severus?" 

"Yes, precisely." 

All of a sudden, instead of wanting Dumbledore to stay in case he messed up, Harry realised he needed to be alone with Severus. Because really, they were _in_ this whole thing alone. Bound together, not just by the ritual they'd gone through the night before, but also by the fact that Voldemort had messed with both of them in major ways. Nobody else could understand what that was like, not really. "All right, well . . . thanks for coming down to get me started." 

"Of course," said the headmaster, taking the hint at once and leaving the room. 

Once alone with Severus, Harry got a teaspoonful of the potion ready, then placed his hand on the man's shoulder and jostled him. He wanted it swallowed, not resting in Severus' mouth or sliding out, and that meant he needed cooperation. "Come on, Severus. Wake up a little, all right? Just enough to get this down you." 

No response, so Harry shook him a little harder. 

Then harder still. 

That time, Severus groaned like a dead man coming to life and opened one eye to stare at Harry rather balefully. "Go . . . way." 

"You'll feel better once you've had your potion," insisted Harry. He felt a bit odd saying it, as he'd never had to nurse anyone before. He felt even odder when he realised he was saying the same things Aunt Petunia would say when Dudley was feeling off. Well, except for the word _potion_. 

"Potter," rasped Severus, his voice sounding just shredded. "I . . . headache. Splitting. _Go. Way._ " 

Harry probably would have done just that, if not for the headmaster's gentle reminder that slave or no, there were some orders Harry shouldn't take. 

"If you have a headache you shouldn't be shouting," Harry retorted. There, that was better. Much less like Aunt Petunia and more like himself. And he was supposed to be himself, right? The contract even said so. 

Of course, _shouting_ was a bit of an exaggeration. Severus really hadn't raised his voice yet. He probably couldn't; it sounded like he'd screamed it raw. Harry could tell, though, that Severus wanted to shout, so close enough. "Look, the quickest way to shut me up is just to take the potion, Severus. Two spoonfuls and I'll let you rest, promise." 

Grumbling, the man did, though he muttered about it the whole time. Apparently, the exertion of lifting his head so he could swallow from the spoon Harry was holding just about did Severus in, for directly after the second spoonful he collapsed against the bedcovers, breathing like he'd just played a marathon Quidditch match. 

Only then did Harry finally have a chance to think beyond the mere fact of _Cruciatus_. Severus wasn't properly in bed, or even undressed. He was just lying atop the bed, panting, still wearing robes that were caked with . . . well, Harry didn't know with what, but it certainly looked disgusting. 

"Let's get you more comfortable," he said, moving his hands to the clasp holding the man's robe together. 

"Said you'd go away," groaned Severus. "Promised." 

"I said I'd let you rest, and you'll rest better if we get you out of these clothes," answered Harry in what he felt was a very reasonable tone, considering Severus was behaving like a petulant child. 

Severus made a noise like he was being strangled. "May sick up 'gain, Potter--" 

"So? I've had worse things happen to me." Harry pulled the robe off, and since Severus was glaring at him, tried his best not to grimace at the state it was in. 

"Potter, if . . . go _away_ or--" 

"Shut up, Severus," interrupted Harry. For a moment he was surprised that no thunderbolt from above struck him down; Severus _had_ once said that Harry had to take care to speak to him respectfully. The contract hadn't mentioned it, though, so Harry supposed it wasn't really all that vital. Or maybe context mattered. "If you don't let me take care of you I'll have to call Albus back down." 

Severus glowered, but didn't object again as Harry tugged off his clothes and banished them. Only afterwards did Harry realise that the Death Eater robe and mask must have been stuffed into one of the pockets. _Oh, well_. If Severus was mental enough to go through this again, he'd just have to get himself some new gear. 

"So, a shower, you think?" asked Harry, matter-of-fact. "You stink." 

He really did; it was a rank odour of sweat and fear mixed with the unmistakable stench of vomit. 

"More water? No," groaned Severus, a comment Harry didn't really understand. He could work with it, though. He cast a strong freshening charm on Severus, and then another one on the bed, and asked if the other man wanted pyjamas. 

"Just go away," said Severus again, sounding near to fainting that time. Harry decided the pyjamas didn't matter, but he did tuck the covers around Severus before he left, quietly swinging the door closed, but not all the way. 

Sitting out in the settee in the front room, he tried again to read the material the headmaster had given him, but if anything, he was able to concentrate less now than before. He had to repress an urge to go check on Severus, and kept listening to the sound of the man breathing, just in case he suddenly stopped. 

Finally giving up on the whole _go-away_ concept, Harry laid the parchments aside. A quick scan of the bookshelves revealed a couple of books that might have information about _Cruciatus_ and recovery. Grabbing those, Harry went back into the bedroom and sat in a chair, alternately reading and watching Severus sleep. After a few minutes, he became aware of the sound of Severus' breathing, surrounding them. 

Not just breathing, either. Underneath that noise there was murmuring, so faint that Harry had to lean over in order to make it out. Something about water again, and how the constant buzz in his mind was maddening . . . 

Harry sat back again after a few moments. Severus was obviously dreaming about what he'd just been through. It would probably have upset Harry a lot more to hear about it if he could understand the man's ramblings. All he knew for sure was that there had been lots of curses, and some sort of torture involving water, and of course constant Legilimency. Voldemort had wanted to know something . . . 

That was when the truth hit Harry like a tonne of bricks. _Legilimency!_

Voldemort didn't need Bole or Talmadge to volunteer information; he could read it straight from their minds! And it was a sure bet that once Voldemort knew Harry Potter had been brutally raped, he'd spread the news far and wide. 

Severus would find out. 

Hell, Severus might _already_ have found out! 

But no, probably not. Even as sick as he was, he'd have said something about it. 

So probably Bole and Talmadge hadn't been at this particular meeting, but they might be at the next one. And that was bad, really bad. If Severus heard _at a meeting_ that Harry had been raped, the shock and surprise of that just might snap him out of his Occlumency. Voldemort might find out that Severus wasn't loyal to him at all, might find out, in fact, that Severus was doing his best to help Harry destroy the Dark Lord once and for all. 

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and sat there shaking. God, how could he have been so selfish? How could he have thought only of his own problems, his own reluctance, when keeping silent about the rapes could cost Severus' life? 

But he didn't want to tell Severus about it, he really didn't! 

But now, he didn't know how he was going to avoid it. 

His forehead wrinkled in thought, Harry pulled his chair a bit closer to Severus' bed, and watched the other man's chest steadily rise and fall. 

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 6:24 p.m.**

A low groan interrupted Harry's reading. 

"Severus?" 

The Potions Master opened one eye, just as before, but this time the white wasn't bloodshot. Harry smiled in relief. "How are you feeling?" 

The answer came in a low growl of noise. "How do you think?" 

"Well, you're using complete sentences. That's an improvement." 

"Shut up," growled Severus as he tried to push himself up higher on the bed. Collapsing back down onto the pillows, he glared at Harry with both eyes. "Did you tell me to shut up, before?" 

Harry nodded, unrepentant. "Yeah, you can yell at me about it later." 

Severus curled a lip, obviously disgruntled. "That's enough cheek out of you, Potter." 

"Harry." 

The other man nodded as he subsided even further into the pillows. "Harry, yes. I don't mean to . . . they were calling you that." 

"Yeah, I figured." Harry shrugged, wondering what to say next. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" 

Severus curled a lip. "No." 

"All right. So, I gave you some of your special _Cruciatus_ potion. A double dose. Is it time for more?" 

"It's time for me to report to Albus." 

"Oh, did you find something out?" 

Severus' black eyes narrowed. "Do you suppose I'd give a report if I had nothing to say?" 

Harry felt himself flushing. "Yeah, all right. I'll get him down here." 

"It might be best if I wore something for the occasion," drawled the other man. He made what looked like an effort to sarcastically indicate the fact that he had only blankets to cover him, but the gesture fell flat when he couldn't lift his arm very much. 

"Something light? Or are you too cold?" 

"For Merlin's sake stop fussing like an gnarled old witch and just fetch me something!" snarled Severus. 

Harry rolled his eyes, though he turned away first. No point in feeding the demon, as it were. The headmaster had been right about how foul an ill Severus could get. 

The wardrobe contained a medium-weight black robe that Harry thought would do. No point in shirt and trousers and all the rest. Severus wasn't going anywhere. 

Dressing Severus turned out to be quite a bit trickier than undressing him had been. Harry had to support the other man's weight while he tried to position his arms into the sleeves, and damned if it didn't seem like Severus did all he could to make the process as difficult as possible. 

In the end, Harry ended up casting a feather-weight charm and very nearly cast a silencing spell as well. 

"I feel all grotty," complained Severus in a peevish voice when he was at last wearing the black robe and propped up in bed. 

Harry raised his wand to cast another freshening charm. 

"I'll do it. Where's _my_ wand?" 

It had clattered to the floor when Severus had fallen through the doorway, Harry remembered. He'd picked it up and put it on a table in the front room. He took a step to go get it, but then remembered the headmaster's advice. 

"I'll fetch it for you when you're a bit stronger," said Harry, casting the charm himself. "You need to rest." 

"You'll get it for me _now--_ " Severus sounded furious, but also so exhausted that his tone of voice was only a pale echo of his usual snarl. 

"You need all your energy to heal. Just tell me what you want and I'll see to it." 

"I want my wand!" 

Harry shrugged and made a show of tidying something as he spoke. "Are you ready to see the headmaster, then?" 

Severus scowled at him, his black eyebrows coming together in an ominous line. "You're lucky I intend to let you listen to my report. What's got into you?" 

"I'm bound to you," said Harry dryly. "I'm supposed to serve your needs, remember? What do you suggest I do when you obviously need to recover, eh? Help you out of bed so you can run laps out on the pitch?" 

"So you're just being a good slave," said Severus in a disgusted voice. 

"Yeah, and you can yell at me later, like I said," retorted Harry. "Shall I firecall Albus, now?" 

Harry took the answering grumble for a _yes_. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 6:32 p.m.**

"Headmaster," said Severus, wishing his voice didn't sound quite so rough. "I wasn't able to ascertain any of the Dark Lord's future plans." 

"No, he was too occupied punishing you, it seems," said Albus quietly, his wrinkled hands clasped together as he leaned forward. 

A succinct summary of the Death Eater meeting, Severus had to admit. 

"Did he find out about you and me?" 

Severus shot an irritated glance Harry's way. "Do you suppose he'd have let me leave his presence alive, in that case?" 

"Perhaps you should just explain," prompted Albus gently. 

"I had asked Harry to stop Occluding for a moment," began Severus. "At that moment, the Dark Lord sensed him and realised that his magic had changed in some profound way--" 

"Oh God, he knows about _Cambiare Podentes,_ " gasped Harry. 

"Would you kindly stop jumping to conclusions!" snapped Severus. "It's no wonder nobody wanted you and your immature impulses in the Order--" 

"Now Severus, you know it's not our practice to allow students to join, and since Harry left school there's hardly been time." Much to Severus' irritation, the headmaster proceeded to turn to the young man himself to offer, "You're certainly more than welcome to join the ranks--" 

"I believe that's my decision, not yours," interrupted Severus. "Or his." 

"Oh yeah, I just gave up my whole life to you," said Harry furiously. "Take that too, why don't you?" 

"It's _because_ I own your whole life that I have to insist such matters come to me," said Severus, his voice going cold at Harry's failure to grasp the importance of the matter. "Joining the Order, in case you're too naïve to realise as much, is a profound, life-altering decision! And as this is _not_ a case in which you are unable to discuss it with me beforehand, don't answer that invitation unless you care to find out just what sort of punishment the contract would mete out!" 

Harry jumped up from his chair. "All right, all right! Forget the whole thing!" 

Severus ignored the histrionics. Harry should be grateful Severus had some regard for him, because if he hadn't, the terms might have been quite a bit more onerous. It wasn't his fault the contract had said those things . . . well, perhaps it actually was, but he couldn't control what his subconscious desires had been. "If you'd allow me to continue?" 

It took a moment for Severus to re-assemble his thoughts. "The Dark Lord sensed a profound change in Harry and assumed that it must be some plot or scheme of yours, Albus, to augment Harry's magic. As the Dark Lord considers me his eyes and ears in the Order, I was immediately summoned to . . . explain." 

Harry drew in a sharp breath, but didn't interrupt. 

"And of course you could not explain," said the headmaster slowly. "Did Voldemort truly believe that more _Cruciatus_ would change your mind? Did he believe you were holding back information?" 

Severus felt a tremor pass through him as he answered. "No. I pled total ignorance, of course. I said I knew nothing of any plot involving Harry's magic. And . . . and the Dark Lord decreed that I ought to have known. That were I doing my assignment properly, I would have known. And hence I deserved to be punished . . ." 

"Oh, Severus." Albus reached a hand out to cover one of Severus'. 

Harry was suddenly there at his side, too, sitting on the edge of the bed, though the young man didn't touch him. 

"All those curses . . ." Harry murmured, not meeting Severus' eyes. "Because you wouldn't talk. You took them to protect me." 

_How like a Gryffindor,_ thought Severus. "I was protecting myself just as much. I was hardly in a position to be candid." 

"True," murmured Harry, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. "But still . . ." 

"The Dark Lord has demanded that I have full information for him within the week," said Severus. "He intimated that he would consider me useless if I could not discover the causes of 'Potter's alteration,' as he terms it. I don't suppose I have to tell you what he does to Death Eaters he has concluded to be worthless--" 

"You can't go back!" 

" _As I was about to say,_ had I not been so rudely interrupted, Headmaster," announced Severus coldly, "I believe it may now be too risky for me to continue spying for the Order. Unless you can propose an explanation for me to offer the Dark Lord regarding the change he senses in Harry's magic?" 

"Don't--" 

Severus didn't wait to hear the rest of Harry's objection. "Allow him to ponder the matter!" 

"He doesn't want you going on those kamikaze missions, either, you know!" 

_Kamikaze?_ Severus didn't ask. He caught the meaning if not the word. "Yes, but unlike _you_ , he comprehends the need!" 

"I do, Severus," said Albus slowly. "But in this case, I fear there is no explanation that will serve over the long term. Perhaps we could concoct one that would work this week or the next, but as you and Harry struggle to cross powers, that may cause other changes in his magic." 

"I'll insist that he Occlude at all times, Headmaster." 

"Hey, I do that already and hard as I try, I'm not perfect, you know. Sometimes I slip up and--" 

"You will not _slip up_ again," said Severus in a hard voice. 

"I can't help it!" 

Severus was about to retort that vapid excuses wouldn't do, not for a matter of this importance, but Albus was shaking his head. 

"No, Severus. _Cambiare Podentes_ being so poorly understood, we simply can't predict what Voldemort may sense as you and Harry seek to mature the spell. It may well be that even Occlumency is of no use at some point. And since we have no way of knowing when that point has been reached . . ." The headmaster lifted his hands as if to say there was nothing else to be done. 

Severus nodded, the tendons in his neck feeling so stiff he thought they might snap. His voice was equally stiff. "Very well, Headmaster. I shall cease to answer the Dark Lord's calls. I apologise for any inconvenience this may pose the Order." 

Albus drew in a low, deep breath, his hands returning to rest atop Severus'. His fingers tightened as he spoke. "A wise decision, my boy. And for the best . . . truth to tell, it's a vast relief. Your aid has been invaluable, but as Voldemort has grown ever more insane and vindictive . . . I have feared for you." 

"I'm relieved too," said Harry, his eyes glittering as he sat there so close. "I'm glad you can't go back. I won't say I told you so, but I _knew_ it was too dangerous for you to keep on--" 

"That's not saying _I told you so?_ " 

Harry had the grace to look just a little shamefaced. "I guess it is. I'm just glad you can't go back." 

"Yes, I believe that's been established." Severus slumped slightly. "I've nothing else to report, Headmaster. Nothing else was discussed at the meeting." 

"That's fine, Severus, that's fine," said Albus, patting his hand. "Well, you seem a bit tired so I'll leave you in Harry's excellent hands." 

Severus opened his mouth to say that he felt perfectly well--certainly, well enough to not need a nursemaid--but Albus put a quick end to that. 

"You remember what we discussed, Harry," the old wizard said as he stood up. "Make sure Severus rests properly. He's apt to object in rather nasty terms but I know you'll do your best for him." 

"Yes, of course," said Harry, rising to his feet. 

Severus scowled as Harry saw the headmaster out. His mood didn't improve when he heard the cheerful question that accompanied Harry's return. 

"So, dinner. What can I bring you? Er . . . do you feel like eating, now?" 

"Yes, and furthermore, I intend to get up," said Severus, struggling to swing his legs over the side of the bed. 

"Forget it." Harry gently pushed the other man's legs back into place and tucked the blanket more firmly around them. "You can try that tomorrow. Maybe." 

"I'll decide when and if I get up, thank you--" 

"Severus, if you fall over I'm the one who has to pick you up!" Harry shook his head. "Look, you can barely sit up. Be reasonable. If you can. I mean, I know it's not your strongest trait--" 

"It doesn't seem to occur to you that I may have good reason to leave this bed," retorted Severus. "A call of nature, perhaps?" 

To Severus' vast amusement, Harry's cheeks went a bit pink. "Oh. Well, I suppose you can get out of bed for that." 

"Gracious to a fault," muttered Severus as Harry backed away. He was less delighted by the minor victory, however, when he could only stand for two seconds before his legs gave out. Mercifully, he hadn't stepped away from the bed yet, so he fell onto it rather than the floor. "Don't you dare say again that you told me so!" 

Harry made a noise of exasperation. "I wasn't even thinking that, not when I was a lot more worried about what to do now! I . . . uh, well, I suppose I could get you a bottle or something, to go in, or . . ." The young man's discomfort abruptly became more pronounced. "Um, is it . . . er, it _is_ liquid we're talking about here, isn't it?" 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Severus flopped back down into the bed. "Can't you think like a wizard for five seconds straight? A _bottle_ . . . what about an emptiness charm?" 

"I'm not going to try to banish your . . . whatever! What if I took out your bladder by mistake?" 

"What if you _gave me my wand?_ " 

"Oh, very well," said Harry in a grumbling voice. "But only if you give it right back afterwards." 

Severus wished then that he could do a wandless summoning charm and settle the matter himself. But since he couldn't . . . "Very well." 

"Ha. You have to promise." 

"Would you believe a promise if I gave it?" 

"Probably not." 

"Then what's the point?" 

"Promise!" 

Snape managed to unclench his teeth enough to speak. "Fine. I _promise._ Are you satisfied yet, or would you like a contract signed in blood, or--" He stopped talking at the look on Harry's face. "Never mind." 

Harry didn't say anything; he just left the room and came back with Severus' wand, handing it over in equal silence. 

Severus waved it carefully over his lower body. " _Inanire._ " 

The temptation to keep the wand was strong, but with the way Harry was still looking at him, like he half-expected it . . . 

Growling lightly, Severus thrust it out. 

Harry smiled very faintly as he set it down on the night table. "There, within reach. Is that better? But don't cast anything you can ask me for, all right? It really will set your recovery back if you do too much, too soon." 

When Severus glanced at his wand, he saw a book lying next to it, the title one he recognised at once. "Ah. You've been reading up on the subject." 

"I do have some personal experience with it, too. Not as much as you, but . . ." Harry sighed. "So, dinner then. What do you fancy? Or shall I choose?" 

Severus settled back into the bed. Really, it wasn't so terrible being cared for, he supposed. He could tolerate it better now that he had his wand. Not that he planned to say as much. "You'll probably present me with mashed turnips," he drawled. 

Harry wrinkled his brow. "Come again?" 

"Mashed turnips. You were eating them one night for dinner. I thought the elves must have gone mad, but you appeared to like them well enough." 

Harry was silent for a moment. Then he suddenly laughed. "Oh, _those_ turnips. I was eating them on a dare." 

"A. Dare." 

"Yeah." 

"And there I thought you were a grown wizard--" 

"It was all in good fun, Severus," said Harry, shaking his head. "Seamus could have thought of something a lot worse, you know. I'm surprised you noticed . . . You used to stare at me a lot as I ate but I didn't think you were paying as much attention as all that . . ." 

Severus felt his heartbeat accelerate. The implication was clear enough. Why _had_ he been watching Harry so closely, if not because . . . 

It was on the tip of his tongue to claim that he used to watch Harry because he'd seen nifflers with better table manners. After what Harry had said in the ritual bath, though, Severus couldn't quite bring himself to insult Harry. Not on that topic. 

"Of course I noticed the turnips. They reeked," he said instead, wrinkling his nose. 

"So what would you like instead?" 

"Soup." Severus knew from experience what to specify. He'd gone through this depressingly often. "Not cream based. Something easy to digest. Beef broth, with a few finely diced vegetables--no turnips--and a sprinkling of barley." 

Harry nodded. "Just water to drink?" 

"Considering your reading material, I doubt you'd order me any wine." 

"You can have some tomorrow." 

"You're really quite bossy." 

Harry chuckled. "I'll just go get your meal, Severus." 

"And yours as well. I'm not eating alone." 

"And you call _me_ bossy." 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 18, 1998 ---- 9:12 p.m.**

Severus hadn't been strong enough to feed himself, really; the man had expended all his stamina just sitting up during that conference with Albus. Harry had ended up helping him with the soup. 

Severus had made it unpleasant, to say the least. 

"At least you can use a spoon," Harry had said. "I had to . . . well, you know what I had to do." 

"I know you had enough Dragon's Happy in you not to mind!" 

Exhaustion hadn't done a thing to still Severus' tongue. But Harry didn't let that bother him. "Come on, Severus. You helped me when I needed it. Let me do the same. Just eat." 

And Severus had, though not without a good deal of grumbling. 

Well, Severus didn't like to be thought weak. In fact, the man could barely stand to be seen that way. Maybe _that_ explained his insistence on continuing to spy on Voldemort even after it seemed so obviously a mistake. 

But at least Severus had finally come to his senses. His spying days were over, which meant he was in no danger of finding out at a meeting about what had happened to Harry. Which meant that Harry didn't have to tell him. 

It should have been a relief, a huge weight off his mind, since he felt cold inside at the thought of such a conversation. Even approaching the subject seemed impossible. What on earth was he supposed to say? 

_Remember Bellatrix, Severus? She wasn't alone. There were two men . . ._

_I should have mentioned this before, I know . . ._

Or maybe, _Don't get angry, all right? Or, not at me. I didn't exactly lie to you, I just didn't tell you everything that happened . . ._

Well, of course he hadn't! He didn't want to tell Severus about it. Ever. But _not_ telling him was like leaving a huge sword hanging over his head. Because he knew he couldn't put off having sex again forever. And the moment Severus wanted to do anything intimate to him, he'd freeze. He just knew it. 

And Severus would want to know why. 

If he'd had to save Severus' life by speaking up . . . maybe he would have been able to find the right words. But without that absolute need to talk . . . no. He couldn't bring it up. He couldn't even imagine talking about it. The whole thing was just too horrible. It was almost like putting it into words would make it real. Of course it _was_ real, so that hardly made sense. But it was true all the same, and that was what counted to Harry. 

But the minute Severus touched him in any truly sexual way, it would all come out anyway! Oh God, spying or no, maybe he would _have_ to tell Severus in the end, Harry realised with a sinking feeling. It wasn't like he could refuse to ever have sex again, and it _sure_ wasn't like Severus wouldn't demand to know why Harry was beginning to scream or-- 

Harry abruptly slammed his book closed. He hadn't seen a word in fifteen minutes, anyway. 

"Tired?" 

Harry blinked, his mind racing. Actually, he _was_ pretty tired, he supposed. Too much stress and worry. "Yeah. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." 

Severus appeared to be struggling to rid himself of the robe Harry had put on him earlier. 

"Here," said Harry, helping him take it off. 

"That's better." Severus lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his hair, but the exertion of that was enough that afterwards his arm dropped like a dead weight to the mattress. "I haven't really been asleep. Just drifting. But now I think I'll sleep." 

Harry nodded. "Do you need anything before I go?" 

A raised eyebrow. A rather dark tone of voice. "Go?" 

Harry's palms started sweating a little bit. Of course he'd slept with Severus before, several times now, but that was before the invocation. Now that he was well and truly the man's slave-- _sex_ slave--it seemed a lot more daunting. It wouldn't probably, if not for the damned . . . 

It was ridiculous to be so nervous, he thought, clenching his teeth. If Severus didn't have enough energy to sit up through dinner, he sure wasn't going to get amorous, was he? But still . . . 

"I thought I'd sleep upstairs," Harry heard himself babble. "I mean, I know what the contract said and all, but I figure this is one of those times when _whenever practicable_ has to kick in, right? You're actually pretty ill, no offence, and you need your rest, and--" 

"I think that refers more to your perhaps needing to travel at some point, and be apart from any bed that could reasonably be termed mine. If we're both here at Hogwarts, you should definitely sleep with me." Severus groaned slightly as he shifted over and pulled the covers back as if to welcome Harry into his bed. 

"You're obviously in pain, Severus--" 

"Bed, Harry. Now." 

"You really think the contract might . . . uh, punish me?" 

"I _really think_ you don't want to find out." 

Harry sighed. It wasn't that big of a deal. Severus wouldn't even want to have sex, not tonight, so he didn't know why he was fussing. Tomorrow, though . . . well, he'd deal with tomorrow when it came. "All right. Don't blame me if you don't get a good night's sleep, though." 

Severus laughed softly. "Harry, I haven't noticed my sleep suffering from your presence in my bed." 

Oh God, the man sounded . . . well, not exactly hot and bothered. His voice was a bit hoarse and scratchy for that. He sounded ill, in fact. But also a bit . . . hmm, Harry wasn't sure. _Interested_ would be overstating the case. But he sure as hell didn't sound disinterested, either! 

Mostly, he sounded like he wanted Harry in his bed. 

On one level, Harry could actually appreciate that. If he had to be enslaved, it was better to be bound to someone who could at least stand him. But on another level entirely, the whole thing was about sex. He felt queasy just thinking about it. 

"Are you planning to join me soon? Tonight, perhaps?" 

"Uh, I just need a shower, I guess. I'll see you in a while." Then, feeling like he was not doing so well at this whole submission business, he repeated, " _Is_ there anything you need, though? More potion?" 

Severus glanced up at him through hooded eyes. The expression _bedroom eyes_ came to mind. But all he said was, "One more spoonful of potion wouldn't come amiss. My nerves are beginning to burn again." 

Harry helped the other man with the potion, then dimmed the lights and slipped upstairs to have that shower. Could he help it if he took a longer one than usual, and then dithered over which pair of pyjamas he felt like wearing? Not that he had that much of a choice; Severus had only bought him two, that day in Norway, but still . . . 

He was hoping Severus would be asleep by the time he went back down, and at first, Harry thought his luck had held. As Harry quietly set his new glasses down on the night table, the other man remained still and silent in the bed . . . When Harry climbed in beside him, though, Severus murmured something about Harry running the castle out of hot water, and shifted over towards him. 

Harry quickly flipped over so he'd be facing Severus. 

"Hmm?" 

"Just as well I'm down here with you," said Harry. "No nightmares that way. Though why being held should help . . ." 

"Soothes _Cruciatus,_ " whispered Severus. "Read your book . . ." 

It took Harry a moment to figure all that out. When he did, he felt exasperated. Hadn't he been saying all day for Severus to tell him what would help? If lying side by side would, then why hadn't the man said so? 

_Because Severus doesn't like to be thought weak._

He wouldn't even want Harry remarking on the matter, so Harry remained silent as he moved over and lay against the other man, settling his head onto Severus' shoulder the way he'd done before. After a moment of hesitation, he shifted his arm to lie across Severus' chest. "How's this? All right? I don't know where it hurts . . ." 

For a moment there was no sound but deep breathing. Then, in sleepy tones, Severus said, "Mmm, only problem is . . . you're . . . wearing too much." 

"Shh," said Harry. "You're not up for . . . er, anything, anyway." 

"Soon . . ." 

"Shh. Go to sleep." 

Severus did, but it was a long time before Harry could say the same of himself. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, June 20, 1998 ---- 7:44 a.m.**

Something was pressing into Harry's hip. Something hard. It wasn't really bothersome, though, or painful. It wasn't even unpleasant. It was just _there_ , steadily pushing against him . . . no, no, it was moving back and forth, the rhythm insistent, even urgent . . . 

"Mmmm." The breathy murmur was accompanied by the feeling of being pulled into a closer embrace. The hand on his back began to wander downward, slipping beneath the waistband of his pyjama bottoms."Too many clothes . . ." 

Harry came awake like a shot and bolted from the bed, memory rushing over him in a searing jolt of awareness. Oh, _God,_ Severus couldn't want sex now, could he? So soon after all that _Cruciatus_? Harry backed up to lean against the wall. He was panting, he realised. Panting so hard that his chest hurt. 

But it also felt like he wasn't getting any air at all. 

"Hmmm?" 

The sleepy question helped snap Harry out of his panic. Severus wasn't even properly awake, let alone demanding . . . anything. It was just a morning hard-on. Severus hadn't been hard the morning before, when Harry had awakened next to him. But the man had still been weak from so much _Cruciatus_ , Harry reminded himself. Severus had spent the whole previous day in bed, alternating between napping and reading. And complaining about how he didn't need the rest, even as his eyelids drooped and the book he was holding slipped from his hands. 

This morning was another story, obviously. Severus was clearly feeling better, and in more ways than one. And this, now . . . well, morning erections were quite normal for healthy men. Harry got them himself. 

Although, not lately. 

Severus blinked once or twice, then shifted a little as he opened his eyes. He smiled, the expression lazy and sensual all at once, his curled fingers beckoning Harry back to bed. 

"Uh, just a second," gasped Harry, grabbing his glasses before edging past the bed and into Severus' bathroom. 

He closed the door all the way, his arm shaking with the effort it took not to slam it, and walked over to the nearby sink. Grasping it with both hands, he stared at himself in the mirror and tried to get himself under control. Gradually he managed to calm his breathing. Splashing some cold water on his cheeks helped him look a little less pale. 

But still, inside him the panic ranged back and forth like a tidal force yanking his emotions this way and that. It was Severus out there. _Severus,_ who wouldn't hurt him the way the others had. _Severus!_ The man wasn't even up to sex yet, Harry was pretty sure. He just had all the normal reflexes that a lot of men had. Morning wood, but that didn't mean he was strong enough for strenuous . . . 

Harry couldn't help it; he started imagining positions, things he'd seen men doing in that book he'd pored over for so long in Blackwell's, and the more he thought about _himself_ in such positions, the harder it was to breathe. Even if the other person in the picture was Severus. 

"Harry?" 

The question sounded distant, but not so much that he could pretend he hadn't heard it. 

"Uh, yeah," he called back, clearing his throat when his voice sounded off even to him. "You need something?" 

The moment he heard the question, he wanted to yank it back. What if Severus said he needed Harry? 

"I just want a wash, all right?" he rushed to shout before Severus could reply. "And then I'll get dressed and get you some breakfast and whatever else you . . . yeah." 

Severus said something in reply, but by then Harry already had the shower running, so Harry didn't really hear it. He had his wash as he'd said, resisting the impulse to make it last all day. Probably best to act as normally as he could. 

When he went back into the bedroom, Severus was lying on his side and looked to be asleep again. Just as well, since Harry was wearing nothing but a towel. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry slipped upstairs and threw his pyjamas and the towel in a corner before yanking on a pair of pants. He almost reached for his usual jeans next, but then he remembered Severus in Norway, saying that they were form-fitting. 

The last thing he wanted was Severus looking at his rear and getting ideas. 

Harry grabbed a pair of dark grey wool trousers and slipped them on. _Fuck_ , those weren't much better, were they? Made just for him, they followed the contours of his body, though not the way denim would. Best cover them with a robe, maybe. 

_So much for acting normally,_ thought Harry as he shrugged into a shirt and thin jumper, then pulled the robe on over all that. Trainers would look distinctly odd with such clothes, so he put on a pair of the shiny dress shoes Severus had bought him. 

As he stared at himself in the mirror in the corner of the room, it occurred to him that Severus had paid for everything he was wearing, right down to the glasses perched on his nose. It had been the same yesterday, of course, but he hadn't had time to think much about it. Now . . . Harry swallowed, his throat hurting. He felt bought. He felt _owned_ , and he didn't like it. 

But he was owned, he told himself sternly. He had to just get used to it, the way he'd have to get used to sex. No matter that he'd never want it again, let alone enjoy it. The choice wasn't going to be his, not with his birthday looming closer every day. 

_Harry Potter, Fucked by Fate._

The words flashed across his mind like a headline, summarising everything into a few choice words. Accurate words, though. When had his life ever really been his own? Fate had fucked him over, all along. Fate and prophecy. 

A sudden violent urge to strangle Trelawney made him clench his hands. Not her fault, he knew that. But wasn't killing the messenger--or wanting to, anyway--a normal kind of reaction to bad news? 

Sighing, Harry went into the upstairs bathroom and tried to get his hair to lay flat. Not that he wanted Severus to find him attractive, but hair sticking every which-way didn't go with these clothes any more than trainers would. 

Severus was sitting up in bed when he went back down. His colour was better than it had been the day before. 

"So, breakfast? Or would you rather I . . . um, help you get a wash? Or . . . do you need your wand for another _Inanire_ , or . . .?" 

"I don't need you to play nursemaid. In point of fact, I had a shower while you dithered upstairs." Severus' black gaze was so intent that Harry started feeling hot, sitting there. "Going somewhere?" 

The question threw Harry until he realised that Severus must mean the clothes. "Oh. No. I just saw them and . . . you know." 

"Nobody expects you to dress like a professor's assistant when you aren't conducting classes, least of all me," said Severus. "Though it's not a bad idea to present yourself in that light for trips into Hogsmeade and the like. You're very young, especially in comparison to the seventh-years, so the more you can do to distance yourself from your student days, the better." 

Severus sounded like he would know, which reminded Harry that the other man had begun teaching when he wasn't much older than Harry was now. "Yeah, I'll have to think about some . . . uh, strategies for creating that distance, I guess." 

"Saying _yeah_ and _uh_ and _I guess_ a good deal less would be one such strategy." 

Harry felt himself getting even hotter, so much so that he gave up on wearing robes. It was a bit ridiculous to wear them about when he was at home, he knew. He shrugged out of his robe, and sat down in a chair a few feet away from the bed. 

_Home . . ._ probably good that he could think of it that way. But even that didn't take the sting out of what Severus had just said. "I thought you wanted me to be myself," he bit out as he bunched the robe up in his lap. "The contract even said so!" 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "It was merely a suggestion. If the students continue to regard you as one of their mates, your job will be immeasurably more difficult than if they respect you." 

"What's to say they can't do both?" 

"Experience." 

"Oh, like _you_ had such a problem with having _mates--_ " The moment Harry heard himself say that, he realised how out of line it was. "Sorry. I'm on edge. I was thinking upstairs how _owned_ I feel and how horrible it is, and-- oh God, the contract isn't going to punish me for thinking so, is it?" 

"No." 

Severus sounded angry but in control of it. 

"Well, I am sorry. I just meant--" 

"I know what you meant. I suggest we drop the topic." 

Harry nodded gratefully. "So, what can I get you for breakfast? I know you said you didn't need a nursemaid, but the headmaster was pretty insistent that I . . . uh, take good care of you, you know." 

"You'll be taking orders from me, not Albus." 

"I know, but--" 

"Yes, yes," interrupted Severus impatiently. "I know what you mean in this regard as well. You're resolved. So, if you wish to be of service, you can fetch me some general painkilling draught." 

"Um, wouldn't your special _Cruciatus_ potion be better, really?" 

"I've been through this before and know what works best for me," snapped Severus. "Shall I just summon the draught myself?" 

"I didn't say I wouldn't get it!" Harry got up and peered down at Severus. "Have you been doing magic, though?" 

"Do I look as though I have?" 

"No . . ." Harry pursed his lips when he realised what he'd just let happen. "Oh, very clever, Severus. Why don't you answer my question, now?" 

Severus laughed softly. "You're not as easy to lead as I once thought. No, I haven't done any magic this morning." His voice went smooth as he continued. "However, the draught can wait if you'd prefer to distract me from my aches and pains. Join me in bed again?" 

Another wave of panic crashed through Harry. "You need to rest--" 

"Mmm, and afterwards I'll sleep for hours. Shall I promise?" 

"But . . . but . . . it's daytime!" 

That time Severus' laugh was openly mocking, though not cruel. "Oh, my. Surely you don't think lovers only indulge in the dark of night? Though if you'd like darkness, that can easily be arranged--" 

Harry felt like his world was splitting apart at the seams. Somehow before, he'd thought he'd only have to face sex at night. He'd thought his days would be mercifully free of threat. A stupid, _stupid_ assumption, he realised now. 

"I don't feel like it," he said, his voice sounding almost dead to his own ears. Dead and hopeless. "I . . . the invocation wasn't very long ago, you know, and with you ill and all, it just doesn't seem a very good idea." 

"Not in the mood? All right." Severus looked slightly puzzled as he shrugged. "You _can_ say 'no,' Harry. I thought we had covered that? The contract won't punish you." 

Harry still found that a little difficult to believe. "What if I say 'no' a lot, though? I mean . . ." 

Severus smiled, the expression so blatantly self-satisfied that it made Harry feel squirmy inside. "You're feeling unsettled at being owned, I think. But that will pass. I have ample reason to believe that you'll enjoy everything I want to do to you." 

Harry turned away quickly, before the expression on his face could give his secrets away. "I'll just go get your potions," he gasped, stepping toward the door. 

Severus' soft laugh followed him, the sound of it oozing with confidence. 

Harry could still hear it once he was in the lab, though of course it was just a phantom inside his own mind, by then. A phantom being drowned out by his own increasingly desperate thoughts. What was he going to do? _What, what, what?_

Severus was obviously going to be better a whole lot sooner than Harry had figured on, and what was worse, he was going to want sex day and night! Lots of sex. Lots and lots and lots-- 

Harry started opening and closing cabinet doors at random, looking for the potion Severus had requested. Though why the man needed painkiller at all was a mystery, if he was feeling randy enough to-- 

Oh, _God_ , what was he going to do? 

The answer to that came to him the instant he opened the next cabinet and saw the neat row of bottles lined up inside. One label practically jumped out at him. 

_Dragon's Happy._

That was what he needed! 

Yeah, just a little Dragon's Happy to get him through it. To make him get all hot and bothered, the way Severus wanted him. To make him willing and compliant, like he'd been for the invocation. 

To help him _forget_ everything but Severus. 

Harry stashed the bottle in his trouser pocket, nodding to himself as he planned the rest of it out in his mind. Whenever Severus wanted sex --ha, starting tonight, from the sound of things-- Harry just had to find a way to slip out for a second so he could take some Dragon's Happy. 

And then, he'd be able to get through it. 

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, June 20, 1998 ---- 7:11 p.m.**

It seemed to Severus that Harry had been uncommonly nervous all day, but it wasn't too hard to reason out the causes for that. Harry himself had expressed discomfort with the feeling that he was now a slave. Likely, that was why he had shied away from making love that morning -- to affirm to himself that he could, indeed, say _no_. 

More significant, though, was something else. Severus couldn't help but suspect that Harry fully expected that Severus would now desire not just sex, but a particular variety of it. And not just desire, but demand. 

Nothing could be further from the truth, of course. Oh, Severus longed to bury himself in that tight, firm arse and feel Harry shuddering with pleasure around his cock, but he certainly didn't intend to insist on that straight away. Soon, yes. Severus didn't think he could wait long now that Harry was his, and that wasn't even counting the absolute necessity to get Harry fully protected before his birthday. 

But there was no reason why that had to happen tonight. 

"Do you want dinner now?" 

When Severus glanced up from the parchments he hadn't been reading, he saw that Harry was leaning against the door leading into Severus' bedroom, a wary look in his eyes. 

"I'll take care of it." Severus stood up from the settee and stretched a bit. 

"No, you should rest. It's no trouble--" 

"Harry, stop," said Severus, a little sharply, since the young man was already turning to go down the hall to Severus' private library. "I don't need further rest. I've had nothing but rest since I returned on Thursday. I'm perfectly capable now of resuming my regular activities." 

Severus was sure he didn't imagine the slightly panicked look that crossed Harry's face. As he'd thought, today's litany of _no, no, you take it easy, I'll do it,_ was at least partially motivated by Harry trying to put off the inevitable. 

A little ripple of annoyance had Severus clenching his teeth for a moment. He'd thought they were past all this! What had happened to the Harry who had shyly said one night that he thought he might even be looking forward to the sex? 

Unfortunately, Severus knew what had happened. Over a week had passed, for one thing, and there was the whole issue of slavery standing between them. It was almost like that aspect of their relationship had become the dominant one, instead of being relegated firmly to the background as Severus intended. Disregarding it was more difficult than he would have thought, though, mainly because Harry kept bringing it up, asking questions about the contract. 

"I think I ought to clarify something," said Severus, walking over to where Harry was standing with his arms crossed. "You seem to have some sort of idea in your head . . . something to the effect that tonight is different from any other evening. It's not, to my mind." 

Harry started stammering. "Y- y- you mean, you aren't going to want, er--" 

"I want you, certainly. But as I told you before, there are many ways to make love." 

"I remember." Harry swallowed several times. "But Severus, I uh . . . feel a little ill, actually--" 

Severus didn't doubt that, but he also knew that what Harry was feeling was caused by an excess of nervousness. And really, there was only one cure for it. "You're over-thinking everything again," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "Relax, Harry. It's all going to be fine." 

"I. . . there's no real way to avoid it, I know." Harry shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "All right. I'll just, um, go splash a little water on my face and I'll be right out and we can . . . start." 

Severus put a hand on the young man's shoulder to detain him. "What about dinner?" 

"Oh yeah, forgot." 

Maybe more touching would help, Severus thought. He didn't like to see Harry so nervous. In fact, it irritated him, but in the interests of an amicable evening he was doing his best to try to remember what this must be like for the other man. It wasn't hard to imagine, actually. 

Severus knew what it was to be utterly at the mercy of another person. 

Both his hands grasping Harry's forearms, Severus pulled the young man in for a long, heated kiss. 

Harry's response wasn't all Severus could have wished. In fact, the young man's hands remained in his pockets. 

Sighing, Severus pulled back. "Really, there's no need to worry, Harry. We'll just do tonight what we've done before. All things you enjoy." 

For some reason, hearing that made Harry go absolutely pasty. "Sooner or later, though--" 

"I think you'll feel better after a nice dinner and a glass of wine," interrupted Severus. He could have done with less of this anxiety, but seeing that it went hand in hand with Harry being so inexperienced, he supposed it was all right. He liked the thought that nobody else had ever touched Harry the way he would. 

"Yeah, dinner. Good idea," said Harry in a voice that sounded like it was steady only through sheer force of will. He began walking as he talked. "Yeah, I'm probably just hungry. Yeah, that's right." 

When Harry saw the small round table they ate at, his eyes widened with surprise. "You've been busy." 

Severus tapped his wand to the elegant tapers to light them, and cast his gaze over the fine silver and crystal he'd set the table with. Yes, it would do. "I told you I was perfectly well again." 

He'd meant to say more than that. Really, when he'd laid all this out, he'd intended to tell Harry that if their bonding was akin to a marriage, then the next few weeks were something like a honeymoon, weren't they? A stretch of time during which they could grow to know one another better. Not just sexually, either. 

Severus didn't say any of that, though. With Harry already so nervous about resuming their relationship, a word like _honeymoon_ would be like a spark set to kindling. He wished, in fact, that he hadn't ordered champagne. 

Harry sat down, his mouth twisted. "I guess you told the elves to send us all sorts of fancy foods." 

Severus shrugged and pulled out his chair. His back ached slightly when he lowered himself into it, but he tried his best not to let that show. Tapping the table once caused their water glasses to fill. Harry grabbed his immediately, but didn't drink. He just toyed with it, rolling it back and forth between his palms. 

Severus felt his cock begin to lengthen and harden, watching that. If matters between them were more resolved, he'd have remarked on it. He'd have teased Harry for being so suggestive. 

As things stood, though, Severus was certain that Harry had no idea he was giving Severus ideas. 

Another tap, and an ice bucket appeared, a bottle of _Philipponnat Grand Blanc_ inside it, the slight vapour rising from the neck announcing that it had just been opened. Severus began pouring the wine, speaking all the while. "I chose this hoping to find a happy medium between our tastes. It's what one calls a medium-bodied champagne. Most champagnes are made from several varieties of grape, but this one is wholly made from Chardonnay. It comes from the village of _Mareuil-sur-Aÿ_ in France." 

"Right, all champagne comes from France. Got it." Harry smiled a little ruefully. "No, that came out wrong. I do appreciate your explaining." 

Severus nodded and lifted his glass, but he didn't make a toast. 

Harry clinked their glasses together, then tasted the deep gold wine and nodded. "Not bad." 

Severus could have done with more enthusiasm, but he didn't remark on it. Inhaling the floral bouquet deeply, he drained half his glass before tapping the table to summon the rest of their meal. He tried to keep their conversation light by telling Harry about some of the things he'd seen in France and Spain. 

"Except for that one trip to Norway, I've hardly been anywhere," said Harry, stabbing his fork into a sautéed scallop. 

"We'll travel," promised Severus. 

"I want to go to America." 

Severus did his best not to grimace. "Hollywood?" 

"Disneyland. Or Disneyworld. Hermione's parents took her, one summer, to whichever one's in Florida. I've wanted to go, ever since." 

"Oh, I'd be very willing to travel to Florida." 

Harry dropped his fork. "You mean you'd actually take me?" 

Severus smiled slightly. "The best moonvine in the world comes from the Everglades. I'd be very glad of a chance to harvest some fresh. You see, Harry? Our interests are not so incompatible as you might think." 

"Trust you to turn any vacation into a potions hunt." Harry didn't sound scornful, though. Accepting, rather. It gave Severus some hope that they would find ways to get along. "What's for dessert?" 

"Profiteroles with chocolate sauce and raspberries." Severus tapped the table to clear their places, and again to summon the pastries. 

"I'm going to get fat if we eat like this all the time," said Harry, tucking in. "Actually, I don't know why you're so scrawny." 

Severus lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward. "I beg your pardon?" 

Harry waved his hand slightly. "Lean, I meant. I didn't mean any offence. It's . . . uh, a good look for you." 

Severus would have doubted very much that Harry meant that, except that at that moment, the young man proceeded to flush. Interesting. 

Severus allowed Harry to linger over his dessert, but when he showed no sign of _ever_ finishing his last bite, suggested, "Why don't we sit on the settee and enjoy some music together?" 

Harry cleared his throat, his fork clattering against his plate as he set it down at last. "Music?" 

"I thought we'd kiss, as well." 

"Kiss." Harry appeared to hesitate. "Um, kissing could be . . . You're good at it." 

"You're good at it, too." 

Harry grabbed his champagne flute and downed what little wine remained in it. "All right, but I don't want to do any. . . er, sex stuff out on the couch. Just kissing." 

Severus almost laughed, but then he remembered the horrible people Harry had grown up with. Definitely, those narrow-minded Muggles would believe that sex belonged in the bedroom only. Severus would be happy to cure Harry of the misconception, but that could wait until they were more comfortable with one another. 

"Just kissing, then," he said solemnly, his lips twitching a little bit. "For a while. And then we'll move it into my bedchamber." 

Harry nodded and followed Severus out to the parlour. "So, do you have one of those wind-up record players, something like that?" 

Severus presumed he meant a Victrola. Shaking his head, he performed some complicated spell-casting to conjure a flute, cello, and violin. The instruments floated over to a corner and began playing softly. 

"How do they know what song?" 

"It's embedded in the spell." 

Sinking into a chair, Harry sighed slightly. "You really _do_ know a lot of magic outside of potions." 

Severus sat on the settee and patted the area next to him. "Why are you so far away?" 

"Oh. Sorry." 

Harry sat down alongside him in a way Severus could only think reluctant. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing--" 

Harry suddenly gasped and raised a hand to his temple, just as Severus felt a slight pulse of magic pass through him. Odd. 

"What's wrong?" asked Severus again. 

"Twinge of headache." Harry dragged in a long breath. "Ugh. More than a twinge. But it's not like any headache I've had before. It's . . . sort of fiery, I don't know." 

"Tension, most likely," said Severus in a matter-of-fact voice. "You're obviously nervous. I do wish you would believe what I said earlier." 

"Oh, that tonight's not the night, so to speak?" Harry kept rubbing his temple as he spoke. "I believed that." 

"Then why are you so nervous?" 

"I . . . uh . . . " 

"Let me do that," said Severus impatiently, grabbing Harry's wrist to lower his hand. "You're going to rub your scalp raw. Does it still hurt so much?" 

"Yeah, like an echo." 

Severus probed Harry's temple with his fingertips, moving them gently over the skin, then lowered his hands to the tendons in the young man's neck. They felt like wooden rods beneath the flesh. "There's no need for all this anxiety," he said as he began a deep and thorough massage. "I know it upsets you to be my slave, Harry, but everything's going to be fine, I promise." 

"Oh, now you can promise," said Harry, stretching out his neck to the side. He talked without rancour, but not without all trace of resentment. "Yeah, well, easy for you to _promise_ it'll all be fine and dandy. You aren't the one who's irrevocably bound." 

_No?_ thought Severus, frowning a little. In some ways he was more bound than Harry was. Feeling some measure of . . . affection for Harry put him at a disadvantage. He actually cared what the young man thought of him. Harry didn't have to care what Severus thought, not really. Not unless Severus was going to be the kind of master who would punish Harry. And Harry knew well enough, Severus thought, how unlikely that was to happen. 

At least, he hoped Harry did. 

"I bound myself to you," Severus said quietly. "Did you think I was jesting about that?" 

Harry moaned a little bit as he stretched his neck out to the other side. "No, but I don't think it's the same." 

"It's not the same, no." Severus finished the massage and pulled Harry towards him, supporting him by one arm as he bent his head to drop a kiss on Harry's lips. They felt tense at first, but soon began to soften. Harry wasn't nearly as responsive as he'd been many times before, but that was all right. Severus was in no rush. 

And indeed, the longer they kissed the more at ease Harry seemed to be. Perhaps that was because Severus was sticking scrupulously to the _just kissing_ proviso. He wanted to do more, wanted to begin to unbutton Harry's shirt and toy with the nipple ring that marked the young man his. Wanted to quite desperately, in fact. But what mattered more than his own desire was that Harry could trust him completely. 

" _Mmmm,_ " said Harry, the noise of it uneven, his voice a little breathy when he broke off to speak. "I do like kissing you." 

"The feeling's mutual," murmured Severus, shifting on the settee restlessly and pulling Harry into more of a side-by-side embrace. His cock was so long and hard by now that his trousers had become a painful constriction. A strong temptation had him longing to grab Harry's hand and rub it against the tented fabric, or better yet, unbutton his trousers so that the young man's bare hand could caress him. 

Instead, he pulled Harry close again and tried to show him through the kiss just how aroused he was becoming. 

After a while, it was too much to withstand. Severus knew he'd go mad if they didn't adjourn to his bedchamber. "Come," he said, rising to his feet and tugging on Harry's hand. He gestured with his other hand to stop the softly playing music. 

Harry looked somehow frightened and resolved all at once. "Yeah," he said thickly. "I. . . yeah, all right." 

Once they were in his bedroom, though, Harry hung back from the actual bed. His voice was strangely high-pitched when he said, "I. . . uh, I need a minute." He made a vague gesture toward the bathroom door. "All right?" 

By then, Severus wanted to grab Harry by the shoulders and throw him on the bed, then cover him with his own body and grind their hips together in the slow, delicious rhythm of frottage. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. 

"Great. I. . . back in a second, then." 

It was a good deal longer than that before the young man returned. Remembering that Harry much preferred making love in the dark, Severus used the time to light a few candles and then extinguish the other lights. He piled his pillows into a heap at the head of his bed, and took off his shirt before stretching out indolently against them. Perhaps the jump into partial nudity would inspire Harry to doff his shirt as well, and Severus would get to enjoy that nipple ring at last. 

Knowing that Harry was his, fully his. . . that the young man even bore his _mark_. . . that was such a heady pleasure that Severus' cock jumped when he contemplated it. 

When the bathroom door finally swung open again, Harry looked as though he'd slicked down his hair with a little water. Severus hoped that meant that nervousness or no, Harry had found their kisses out on the settee as heated as he had, himself. 

Harry spelled off the light behind him as he started forward. 

"Awful dark," he said. He looked to be having a little difficulty walking, but Severus paid that little mind. As soon as Harry came close enough to the bed, Severus reached out a hand and tugged Harry onto it. 

"Whoa," said Harry, sounding almost drunk all of a sudden. 

"You're wearing too much again," said Severus softly, lifting Harry's glasses off his face and setting them on the night table. "Why not take off your shirt, as well?" 

"Yeah, good," said Harry, but when he tried, his fingers fumbled over the buttons. "Um. . . you?" 

Severus needed no more invitation than that. He quickly helped Harry out of the shirt and then, unable to resist it, ran his hands up and down the young man's muscled torso. "Ah, yes." His fingers found the nipple ring and began to tweak it slightly. 

Harry gasped and stiffened, yanking himself away. 

"Still too sensitive?" said Severus, nodding as he pulled Harry onto his side, next to him on the bed. 

"Yeah, sensitive," said Harry in a shaking voice. "I. . . uh, more kissing, maybe." 

"Certainly." Now that they were officially in bed, however, Severus wasn't about to restrict himself to kissing alone. His hand skimmed along Harry's rib cage as their mouths connected, moving lower to caress a lean yet muscled hip. Harry stiffened again, then began kissing Severus more fiercely. 

Something about that kiss struck Severus as _off_ , but he wasn't about to complain, not when he was so near to his objective. His fingers slipped beneath Harry's trousers, diving inside his pants as well, and then Severus had one rounded cheek in his hand and was enjoying the warm feel of it. 

Or _was_ , until Harry screamed, the sound of it strangled, and wriggled backwards so violently that he ended up almost falling off the edge of the bed. 

Severus reached out to pull him back into the middle, only to draw back when Harry actually _yelped_ in alarm. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing!" said Harry, only to immediately clutch his temple as he'd done out in the parlour. 

Again, Severus felt a strange pulse of magic pass through him, the feeling slightly stronger this time. He had little time to ponder it, though. He snapped a command for the lights to go on, and saw Harry cowering near the edge of the bed, his face drawn and sweaty, his eyes glazed with obvious terror as he held one palm to the sides of his head. 

Harry's pupils were huge, his irises only a thin green ring around them. 

Severus had a sudden, violent urge to strike someone. "What did you take?" he asked in a flat voice, wondering what the hell was going on. 

"Nothing!" said Harry again, but that time he gasped in pain before he'd even finished speaking. "Ow, _ow!_ " 

And that same pulse of magic once more coursed through Severus, but this time it was more of a ripple winding its way 'round and 'round inside his mind. 

Three times now, Harry had clutched his head just as Severus had felt it. So this time, instead of ignoring the feeling, Severus concentrated on it. It was like falling into a deep well of thought. Not unlike tipping forward into a pensieve, actually. He saw Harry in the bathroom, a small glass vial in his hand, staring at himself into the mirror and muttering that it would be all right. Then Harry upended the vial into his mouth, and started choking on the contents. Harry hurriedly turned on the taps and cupped his hand under the flow, splashing the water sloppily into his mouth and then all over his face. . . 

Drawing back from the memory, Severus returned to the present and stared across the distance separating him from Harry. "Don't lie again," he warned in a low, menacing voice. That's what the fiery pain in Harry's head was, he now realised. As well as the answering thrum in his own mind. It was the mind bond, flaring to life to tell him that Harry was being deceitful. Of course. 

A slave had no business _lying_ to his master, and Harry certainly shouldn't be telling lies to Severus! Furious, Severus clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing as the pulse of magic inside his head began to fade. He didn't know what he was going to do about Harry, but at least _Cambiare Podentes_ wasn't going to let the deceit slip past unnoticed. 

"Don't lie again," Severus said once more. "You took something in the bathroom. What did you take?" 

Harry wiped his hand across his mouth. "I. . . what are you going on--" 

" _Don't lie to me!_ What did you take?" 

"I-- I _didn't_ take anyth--" Harry clutched his head again. "Argh!" 

Enraged, Severus reached out and grabbed the young man by the shoulders, his fingers digging into bare flesh as he thundered, "I won't be lied to! Tell me the truth!" 

Harry wrenched himself away, the words sounding like they were being dragged from him by sheer panic. "Dr-- Dragon's. . . " 

"Dragon's Happy?" Metabolised opium wasn't just rare or expensive; it was almost impossible to get. Severus himself wouldn't even have any if not for Albus pulling massive strings to obtain some for him. Harry had to have stolen it. 

Severus felt his fists clench as he struggled to understand. "Why did you steal from me?" And then, when Harry looked left and right frantically as though struggling for a lie, "The truth! Why?" 

"I. . . I thought I needed it--" 

" _You thought you needed it?_ " 

"Yeah!" As if he'd had enough of cowering near the edge of the bed, Harry straightened up and started shouting back. "I'm nervous, in case you fucking well haven't noticed, you egotistical prick, and I thought it would help!" 

"You thought it would help!" An egotistical prick, was he? "When have I ever needed _help_ to arouse you, I'd like to know!" 

"Well I'm sure as shite not aroused now, you arse, and not likely to be, either--" 

That was all it took to push Severus over the edge. Not aroused? Harry wasn't aroused? Well, Severus certainly knew how to change that circumstance, didn't he? And Harry had it coming. Severus had tried talking it over, had tried being understanding, and Harry's answers just kept getting more idiotic. Severus had had enough. 

Snarling, he yanked Harry back into the middle of the bed, just as he'd wanted to do a few moments ago. Thrusting Harry beneath him, Severus began kissing his mouth as he ground their hips together. He'd show Harry, once and for all, that Harry didn't need to take drugs in order to enjoy what Severus wanted to do with him! 

The friction on his aching cock was exquisite. Just what he needed, what he'd needed from Harry all day! Severus thrust against Harry again, rubbing. Ah, he was close. Just a little more friction, and . . . 

But Harry was struggling beneath him. Struggling frantically, and not in passion, Severus abruptly realised. Struggling and hitting him, and _flailing. . ._

Severus lifted his mouth and heard Harry scream in earnest, a long wail that sounded more like a trapped, tormented animal than a person. 

Rolling off Harry, Severus watched how the young man scrambled away, fell off the bed, and standing, backed up to the opposite wall, his eyes just as glazed as before, but wild now, too. 

Wild with fear. 

Severus felt his erection, so primed the moment before, begin to diminish. 

His gaze dropped to the young man's placket, his vision confirming what he'd felt the moment before, and been too dim to realise. Harry truly wasn't aroused, not in the least. 

Seeing that only made his own cock droop further. 

Sighing, Severus climbed out of bed. Harry flinched, but seemed to relax when all Severus did was put his shirt back on. Feeling like they needed a less suggestive atmosphere, Severus extinguished the candles and whispered the spell that told the rumpled bed to straighten itself. Then he sat on the edge of it and wondered what to do. He felt on shaky ground, like he was a blind man feeling his way forward. Harry _still_ hadn't really explained, not to Severus' satisfaction, but Severus didn't think that asking _why_ again would get them anywhere. Perhaps a more oblique approach. 

"How much Dragon's Happy did you take, then?" 

Harry sank down the wall and sat on the floor, hugging his knees with his hands. "I don't know." 

Severus couldn't help but raise his voice. "You don't know! Do you even know how much is a safe dose? Do you know if it's safe to take Dragon's Happy after wine? Did you even spend _two seconds_ thinking this daft idea through before you tossed a potent drug down your throat?" 

Harry covered his ears. 

Only then did Severus remember how loud his voice must seem to someone who had just taken a sense-enhancing potion. 

"Not really," said Harry when Severus stopped shouting. 

No ripple of energy in his mind that time, which told Severus that what Harry had just said was true enough. It didn't surprise him, though, to find out that Harry had acted without thinking. Typical Gryffindor. 

Angry as he was, however, Severus wasn't about to just let Harry suffer the after-effects of his idiocy. "Let me get you a counter-hallucinogen," he said grudgingly, rising to his feet. First things first. He'd get the Dragon's Happy out of Harry's system, and then he'd force the truth out of him. 

Harry actually flinched again when Severus came close. 

That did wonders for Severus' state of mind. 

Once he was back, a teacup full of fizzy blue potion in his hand, he knelt in front of the quaking young man and held it out. Harry's hand shook as he took and drank it. 

Once it was down him, he wiped his arm across his mouth again. 

Severus waited until Harry's pupils returned to normal. "Better?" 

"Yeah." Harry's voice sounded wavery. "I. . . uh, I didn't know there was an antidote." 

"Yes, we've established your stunning ignorance on the subject." Severus shoved his hair out of his face. He was close enough to kiss Harry again, though he didn't have any inclination to. He almost leaned in for a kiss anyway, just to see how Harry would react, but then he remembered the two of them out on the settee, kissing passionately. 

Kissing wasn't the problem. 

"Are you ready to talk about it?" Before Harry could open his mouth, Severus cautioned, "Don't lie." 

Harry blinked, moving away a little as though in need of distance. Sighing, Severus sat back on his heels so he could have it. 

"What's this about don't lie? You keep saying that." 

So Harry hadn't made the correlation. Not too surprising, since he hadn't had the benefit of that pensieve-like experience. "The mind bond will punish you," he answered, sighing again. "It's the cause of your sudden headaches. You should also be aware that I get a . . . corresponding feeling in my mind when you lie. Not pain, but not a sensation I can miss feeling, either." 

Harry's mouth dropped open. "No." 

"Yes." Severus felt his anger rising again. "I'm not the one who's been lying his head off here, tonight!" 

The young man's face flushed red. "I can't lie to you? I get to be on fucking _Veritaserum_ for the rest of my bloody _life?_ " 

"You can lie all you like," corrected Severus. "But I'll know. And the spell will punish you for it." 

"Oh, well that's just fucking _great!_ " 

Severus was getting weary of the profanity, but he thought better than to mention that. Other things were more important. 

"My name is Errol," Harry suddenly said, then clutched his head again. "Ow! Fuck it, ow! No!" 

"You see?" 

Probably he shouldn't have said _that_. Harry lashed out with a fist, the motion fast and furious, though all he managed was to land a glancing blow on Severus' cheek. Good thing he'd backed away from Harry earlier. 

"What else aren't you telling me?" shouted Harry, raising his arm as if intending to beat answers out of Severus. 

When _Harry_ was the one who could hardly string two words together without turning out a lie! 

Severus grabbed Harry's right wrist and held fast to it. "I didn't know until five minutes ago that the mind bond would function this way," he spat, giving Harry a warning look as he opened his fingers to let the young man's hand go. 

Apparently calmer by then, Harry merely sighed and rubbed his wrist. "Great, just great! Why didn't you at least warn me?" 

Severus stared. "I didn't know! Aren't you listening?" 

Harry made an impatient noise. "It's not so easy to think at the moment. Your damned mind bond keeps frying my brain from the inside out!" 

"It's not _my_ mind bond, or my doing!" Severus gnashed his teeth. It seemed to him that the longer they talked, the further they drifted from the point. "Why did you sneak off to take Dragon's Happy, Harry?" 

Harry scowled. "Well, isn't that convenient, with me going to be punished if I--. Shite. I'd better just not talk at all. Take that, _Cambiare Podentes!_ " 

"I think we'd better talk," Severus said quietly. "You've been on edge all evening. No, you've been on edge ever since I've been well enough to do something about wanting you." 

Harry's features went ashen. 

"Come sit on the bed with me," said Severus, only to see the young man pale still more. "Harry. . . I won't touch you." 

"I'm fine here." 

Severus stood up. "I thought you trusted me." 

Harry awkwardly lumbered to his own feet. "I do, but I just wish you didn't. . . I can't _do_ this," Harry suddenly cried. "The Dragon's Happy was supposed to cure it, but all it did was make everything worse! I was supposed to forget, like during the invocation, but instead I could feel everything all the more! It was _awful!_ " 

Severus could have done without hearing that. 

But at least they were getting closer to the truth. Harry wasn't aroused . . . as much as he'd enjoyed the kissing out on the settee, it hadn't made him ready for sex . . . being touched had been somehow unbearable. . . 

Severus crossed his arms. It was either do that, or pull Harry into them to prove he was wrong about the touching. But that hadn't worked out very well just a few minutes before, so he tried instead to make his voice as soothing as he could. "Just recently, we were getting on well in bed, Harry. And you were quite passionate during the invocation--" 

"Did you take a stupid potion?" shouted Harry, baring his teeth. "That was the Dragon's Happy! It wasn't a bit of it me!" 

Severus doubted that, but now wasn't the time to dispute it. "Just tell me what's changed, Harry." 

"I. . . I. . . I was. . . " Harry suddenly turned around and started banging his forehead into the wall. "I can't! I'm trying to tell you, and I _can't!_ Oh _God_ , I need to tell you! I'm not so stupid I don't know that!" 

Severus drew in a ragged breath _._ "Why can't you tell me?" he tried asking. 

"It's too horrible!" said Harry, still facing the wall. His forehead resting against the stones, he had his arms wrapped around himself, now. "And it's my fault anyway, going off in London like a perfect idiot!" 

_Something had happened in London. Something Harry hadn't told him._

The temptation to pull his wand and cast _Legilmens_ suddenly gripped Severus. The last time he'd done that to Harry, though, it hadn't been a stroke of brilliance. The price he'd paid, dealing with Harry's resentment afterwards, had been high. 

But now he had another way to see inside Harry's mind if he lied, didn't he? And unlike _Legilimens,_ this one couldn't be blocked. Or detected. 

It only had to be cued. 

"Turn around," Severus said wearily. When Harry did though, he tossed the question out suddenly, hoping to shock Harry into either the truth or another lie. Anything but silence. 

"What happened in London?" 

As if by instinct, Harry shook his head and blurted, "Noth-- ow, ow, _ow!_ Stop _doing_ that!" 

_You stop doing it, _ Severus wanted to retort, but he wasn't about to waste time talking, not when what he needed to do was plunge inside the magic rippling through him to denounce the lie. 

He might not have dived inside the pulse of magic if he'd known in advance just what was waiting for him there. _Bellatrix had not been acting alone . . ._ Images surrounded Severus again. Horrible images. Harry struggling. Not bound, but stuck fast. And two men, laughing as Harry screamed and screamed. 

Severus bore it as long as he could, but when the images became too much he yanked himself out of them, his features so tight with rage that it felt his skin would split away from his skull. Those men had touched Harry! His Harry! And not just _touched_ him, but _raped_ him, brutally, over and over-- 

Severus lifted his face and snarled in pain and fury. 

Harry threw an arm up in front of his face as he backed up to the wall again. 

_Oh, Harry._ Severus felt like something hot had speared him through the chest. As the pain pierced through the rage, he realized he was shaking, his teeth bared. Merlin only knew what he looked like to Harry. 

Forcing himself to unclench his fists, Severus took a long, slow breath. It didn't help much. 

"How on earth did you make it through the invocation?" he heard himself croak, his voice nothing like his usual smooth tones. 

Harry slowly lowered his arm, his eyes wary as he looked up at Severus. "I. . . what do you mean?" 

A foul taste rose to Severus' mouth. But Harry wasn't going to say the word, so he had to. Because this wasn't something they could pretend hadn't happened, was it? "You were raped in London." 

Harry's eyes went wide as he seemed to answer more from instinct than forethought. "No I wasn't! I--" 

Harry's scream that time was more like a full-throated shriek. "God damn it! When is it going to stop doing that?" 

"Never," said Severus bluntly. Harry was never going to be able to lie to him again. A rather satisfying thought, actually. Severus certainly couldn't regret this development. Not after Harry had lied, and stolen . . . and concealed from him something like this! Severus wished the mind bond had been in place sooner, in fact! If he'd _known_ what had happened to Harry, he'd never have thrown the young man beneath him in that futile attempt at frottage-- 

Severus felt his jaw clenching again, absolute fury gripping him. How much damage had he done there, practically forcing himself on Harry after-- But he hadn't known, had he? And why hadn't he known? 

_Because Harry hadn't bothered to tell him!_

"You may as well understand," Severus ground out, "that when your lips start dripping with lies, I can do more than recognise them as such! I can see what you should have told me in the first place!" 

Harry's hands clawed against the wall behind him, his head shaking in frantic denial. "No, _no--_ " 

"You should have told me." Severus thought about mentioning Bole and Talmadge then, just to prove his point, but on balance decided he'd rather not be sidetracked into a discussion of just what he was going to do to those men. 

Even thinking about them ended up sidetracking him, though. Severus started shaking with rage he couldn't repress. He could feel himself pressing each man's face between his palms and crushing his head into a bloody pulp. They were going to suffer as nobody had before, _ever--_

"Severus! You all right?" 

The alarmed question brought him out of his rage, enough so that his hands dropped to his sides. Other than that, though, he didn't answer. His breathing laboured, he wasn't sure he could speak. Or maybe he just didn't know what to say. He stared at the stone floor, his lips pressed tightly together. 

For a long moment all was silent, and then Harry was there in front of him, his hand moving into Severus' range of vision. His _shaking_ hand. But that was nothing compared to the fear Severus could hear in his voice. He spoke like a man placating a wild beast. "Here, take this. You look pretty ill." 

Severus snatched at the glass of water and quaffed it, then stood up straight and threw the glass against the wall. 

Harry began to edge away, like he was wary of attracting the attention of someone dangerous. 

"I'm not likely to hit _you_ , you know," Severus said in a scathing tone as he staggered over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Slumping forward over his knees, he lifted his head just enough to glare balefully at Harry. "Though I'd damned well like to. You should have told me! I had a right to know!" 

Harry sank to his knees in front of Severus, his hands clenching and unclenching in what looked like spasms. "I know, I _know!_ There were times when I thought about it, but I just couldn't. I. . . I thought. . . " 

Severus lowered his voice. "What did you think?" Then, in weary tones, "For Merlin's sake don't lie to me any more tonight, Harry." 

The young man nodded, his gaze trained on the floor as he mumbled out an answer. "I thought you'd think we couldn't possibly invoke, and you'd give up on fulfilling the prophecy with me, and you'd have to go back to Vol. . . the Dark Lord's side. Well, what was I supposed to think? You're Slytherin, aren't you?" 

Those last questions were defensive, which told Severus how whole-heartedly Harry believed the rubbish he was spewing out between them. 

Not that he needed a tone of voice to tell him such things, Severus thought caustically. If Harry _didn't_ believe what he said to Severus now, Severus would know at once, wouldn't he? 

"That's just wonderful," he said, sitting up straight. "You thought I'd turn my back on you and the Order and things I've worked toward since before I ever met you!" 

"I thought you wouldn't have any choice, Severus! How could you believe we could invoke, after-- after--" Harry made a choking noise and turned his face away, his eyes clenched shut. 

Harry's obvious pain killed the worst of Severus' anger at what the young man had just said. Or maybe it was the fact that part of it was true. He probably wouldn't have attempted to invoke the spell if he'd known a week ago what he knew now. _Cambiare Podentes_ was simply too sexual. It was insane to think that a recent rape victim could ever . . . 

_Rape victim._

That's what Harry was, Severus dully realised. A taste like bitter metal seemed to rise up into his throat. Because _Cambiare Podentes_ was still sexual, wasn't it? For them, it had to be. And Harry knew it. 

"I understand why you held your peace prior to the invocation," Severus said, speaking carefully so as not to let his rage crest again. For the moment, he felt in control of it. The longer he spoke though, the more he felt that control slipping away. "But what about since, Harry? You knew we were resuming a sexual relationship! Did you never once think I might need to know you'd been assaulted?" 

Harry leaned back on his heels, but at least he wasn't flinching now. "Look, I'm sorry. I just . . . I thought I could handle it!" 

"You thought that so much that you _stole_ Dragon's Happy from my lab!" 

Angry as Severus still was about that, though, he did remember what it was like to be eighteen and think he could handle anything. It was conceit like that which had drawn him into the Dark Lord's circle in the first place. "All right, you thought you could handle it," he grudgingly added. 

"I thought I'd forget," muttered Harry, turning his face away. "Why didn't it work? Both the other times I got so lost in the moment that I couldn't think of _anything_ else." 

Severus sighed. What Harry didn't know about potions ingredients could fill a library. And he'd thought to dose himself! It took Gryffindor irresponsibility to a new extreme. "Dragon's Happy is a case of diminishing returns, Harry. You become habituated to its effects." When Harry looked at him again, his expression blank, Severus explained further. "The first time it almost took away your ability to think and use language at all. The second time, you could speak and think a bit, but you still couldn't remember. And the third time, it didn't affect you cognitively, though I think it still did enhance sensation?" 

Harry shivered. "Yeah. Horrible." 

_Horrible._ More bloody wonderful news. "You should have realised it would do that much," said Severus impatiently. 

"Well, it wouldn't have bothered me if I could only forget!" retorted Harry. "That's all I need, I think. Like at the invocation. Can't you just give me something? Or now that we're solidly invoked, maybe you could cast _Obliviate_ on me?" 

"Memory spells are nothing to trifle with. I might end up doing irreversible damage. No. Absolutely not." 

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I knew you wouldn't agree. What about something else, something like Dragon's Happy, only better?" 

"There's nothing in the world like Dragon's Happy," said Severus shortly. "And if I ever again find that you have been helping yourself to potions ingredients. . . " He gritted his teeth before he said something he'd regret. 

"Well, I didn't steal your Gillyweed or Boomslang skin, at least," retorted Harry. "It's a first offence, you know." 

"You're lucky you're still breathing. Too much exposure can induce an allergy, as I believe I mentioned?" 

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." 

Severus dearly wanted to shake Harry. Hard. 

Harry's voice was plaintive. "I was trying, Severus. I just wanted to get through it." 

_Get through it._ Severus had been looking forward to an evening of hot and heady lovemaking, and Harry had been looking to _get through it_. 

Severus wished he had another glass to throw. 

Instead, he forced himself to be practical. Leaning over to pick up his wand, he cast _Reparo,_ though he left the glass lying on its side on the floor. Somehow, the little task helped him regain his self-control. 

"Come sit by me," said Severus, moving over on the edge of the bed. When Harry didn't move, he added, "Do I have to say again that I won't touch you?" 

The young man rose to his feet and sat down stiffly. "What now?" 

Severus actually wasn't sure, a feeling which didn't sit well with him. He felt like too many thoughts were crowding his mind at once. Thoughts, and feelings both, but he tried to stay in a practical mode and focus on the former only. 

"The invocation," he said slowly, groping his way forward. "I can't imagine how you managed it." 

"Your potion. You said it would focus the emotions, remember? Well, it focussed me so much on what I wanted that I forgot about everything else." 

"What you wanted?" 

Harry blinked. "Um, yeah. To be your slave. Well, not to be alone again, is more like it. To have someone strong to protect me, in case . . . And to have those crossed powers, so nobody could ever . . . again, yeah." Harry shuddered as he sat there, close enough to touch, if Severus just reached out. Severus didn't. 

Harry suddenly swallowed so loudly that Severus actually heard it. "What do we do now, though? I mean, I know I have to . . . oh, God. You know, I really did think that all I needed was just a little Dragon's Happy every time." 

By then, Severus felt too drained for that to raise much anger. "You were going to take it again and again. Well, thank Merlin for the mind bond, then." 

"What _do_ we do now?" asked Harry again, his voice sounding desperate. "Because I honestly don't think I can stand to . . . you know." 

So they were back to that, were they? Back to Harry not even being able to say the word _sex._ Severus felt exhausted by it all. And depressed. Hanging his head in his hands, he just wished this could all be a dream he'd wake from. But it wasn't. This was real. 

And since it was real, he had more to think about than himself, now. Glancing up at Harry again, he saw that the young man's features were drawn with strain. Doubtless, his own looked no better. "I think we'd better just go to bed. To sleep. How much do you trust me?" 

Harry bit his lip. "Well, if you say you're not going to. . . er. . . well, it doesn't matter, does it? I have to sleep in your bed, with you, what with the contract and all!" 

Actually, the contract had specified that Harry sleep in Severus' bed, but it hadn't said that Severus had to be there with him. Severus decided not to mention that, though. 

"I don't think you'll do anything if you say you won't," added Harry a little grudgingly. "I haven't had any trouble _sleeping_ with you, you know. Even since. You said we'd abstain, and as long as I believed that, I felt. . . um, safe." 

"You felt safe with me?" 

"Well, yeah," said Harry, sounding like he really _did_ think Severus had taken a stupid potion. "Of course I feel safe with you; it's why we could invoke! I just really can't stand the thought of. . . " Harry paused, but then said it. "Sex. I mean, you wouldn't think I'd have a problem with frottage now, but even the thought of that scared me." 

"Of course I'd think you'd have a problem with frottage!" 

"Well, they didn't do that to me, they, uh . . ." 

"Harry." Severus waited until the young man looked at him. "Anything sexual is going to be difficult at the moment." 

"Ha, the moment." Harry threw himself to his back on the bed, his legs still dangling over the side. A provocative position if Severus had ever seen one, but the fact that Harry had grabbed a pillow and pulled it over his face tended to detract from the image, to say the least. "It's never going to get any better," came the muffled complaint. 

Severus moved the pillow out of the way, even though that meant briefly fighting Harry for it. Leaning over the young man, he lowered his face until their lips met, and kissed Harry as gently as he could. It helped that his own erection was long since gone. This wasn't about sex now, not at all. Though they would have to surmount that. In all likelihood, sooner than Harry would like. 

"We'll get through it," Severus said when he lifted his head. No, that had come out wrong. He hadn't meant to use Harry's own words about finding a way to make the sex bearable. "I mean, we'll get past this, Harry." 

"Sure we will." 

"I don't expect you to believe it at the moment." Severus stood up from the bed then. It was difficult for him to stay constructive. He wondered if it would help Harry to hear that Bole and Talmadge were going to die messy, ugly deaths. Probably not. Harry hadn't shared their names, and likely wouldn't appreciate knowing just how keenly into his memories Severus had seen. "I'm going to have a shower," he said. "You look like you could use one too." 

"With you?" 

Severus lifted his shoulders. In other circumstances the question would be enticing. Not now, though. And especially not considering that Harry asked it as though he didn't have any choice. Severus decided that was the first thing they should clear up. "You're certainly welcome to share mine. Or go upstairs to have one by yourself. Whatever you like." 

"I guess I'd rather take one by myself," said Harry, sitting up. His voice sounded tired, defeated.The nipple ring glinted in the light as he moved. Severus tried not to look at it, but when Harry suddenly turned his torso away, and then reached down to the floor for his shirt, he knew he'd failed. 

"So, then you'll come to bed and we'll sleep," said Severus. "As we have before." 

A strange look crossed Harry's face as he did up his buttons. "What if I'm never ready for more than sleep?" 

Severus was torn between sorrow and relief at what he had to say next. "You have to be, at some point. I'm sure you know why." 

"Yeah, I know why." Harry stood up and ran his hands through his hair. "God, I feel a mess. Um, I am sorry though, Severus. I mean, I did know I should have told you. I just . . . " He shuddered. "I mean, how was I supposed to just come out and say I'd got myself r- r- raped?" 

"You didn't _get yourself raped_ ," corrected Severus. "You aren't to blame for what Death Eaters decided to do to you." 

"I'm to blame for running off in London when I should have been in Surrey, though." 

"Considering what I saw in Surrey, I understand that better than you think." 

Harry nodded. "Is that why you never got . . . um, very angry about me staying on in London?" 

Severus was a good deal angrier than Harry knew, but most of the rage was squarely directed at Bole and Talmadge, not the young man standing before him. They had taken something they had no right to. Something that was _his_ , and his alone. They'd raped his Harry. They'd _hurt_ Harry! Only Harry's uncertain expression kept Severus from pulling his lips back into a snarl. "I know what it's like to deal with unpleasant relatives," he said shortly. 

Harry nodded again and grabbed his glasses from the night table. "I'll just shower upstairs, then. That is all right with you, isn't it?" 

Severus rose to his feet and took Harry into his arms to kiss him once more."Yes," he said when he pulled back. 

He sighed as he watched as Harry use the connecting door to leave him. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, June 20, 1998 ---- 9:04 p.m.**

For a long time after Harry left, Severus just stood there, staring at the closed door separating them. His head throbbed with pain. How could it all have gone so wrong, so fast? 

_How could Harry not have told him, if not before the invocation then directly afterwards?_

That hardly mattered, though. What was important now was what to do next. The trouble was, Severus had no idea what that might be. 

And that wasn't a feeling that sat well with him. He'd always felt confident before, of his own abilities as a lover. He'd never doubted--well, not for long, at any rate--that he'd be able to ply Harry with enough pleasure to make him . . . amenable, at least, to everything _Cambiare Podentes_ was going to require. He'd never been at a loss for what to do, except that once when Harry had been acting so disturbingly _slavish._ Albus had helped him see how to deal with that. 

But there was no going to Albus with something like this, and not just because Harry would hate him for it. Severus wasn't about to go to the headmaster and admit he needed help getting Harry willingly into bed with him. No matter that the rapes made that circumstance understandable. It was just as the contract had said: his and Harry's private business. 

And it was going to _stay_ private; Severus was resolved on that. 

Knowing that, however, only made him feel all the more at a loss. This was his problem to solve, no doubt of that, but he had not the slightest inkling how to proceed. Well, perhaps he did have one small inkling, after all. Harry obviously couldn't be pressed for sex, not now. Not that Severus had intended to _press_ him, exactly. He'd expected willing cooperation. Enthusiasm, even, once Harry adjusted to the fact that he was a slave. He'd learn, Severus had thought earlier that day, that it was perfectly possible to be a slave and lover both. 

How would he learn that now, though? He couldn't stand to be touched! 

And Severus was back to thinking that as much as he'd like to change that, he simply didn't know how. 

Muttering, he grabbed his wand and made his way forward into his bathroom. He'd said he wanted a shower, but perhaps a hot bath would be more the thing. All his muscles ached from holding himself so tensely for so long. 

The moment he saw the large, sunken tub, though, all urge for a soak left him. 

That was where he'd spent hours holding Harry, coaxing him through one orgasm after another as magic surrounded them, almost as though blessing the bond that was forming between them. Severus had been full of such anticipation. Such hope. 

And now it all lay in ashes at his feet. 

Severus turned his back on the tub, other images flashing through his mind now. Those two Death Eaters . . . he tried not to see them hurting Harry again, but his mind kept returning to the scene. He grimaced at his inability to stop the memory from playing out before his eyes again: he usually had more mental discipline than this! 

Whipping his wand up, Severus spelled the taps to flow hot and fast, then clumsily yanked off his clothing and stepped under the spray. Soap in hand, he set about washing himself, though he wondered why he even bothered. Harry wasn't likely to care. 

When he got to his cock, long and thick but completely flaccid, he just felt tired and defeated. He'd been so hard earlier. So desperate. But that was gone now, every last trace of it. No arousal could withstand the kind of images he'd seen inside Harry's memories. Of course Severus had seen rapes before. But never like that. Never when it was happening to someone he cared for. 

Severus went still, the soap slipping from his fingers as his thoughts sped forward. Just seeing a _glimpse_ of that in Harry's mind had been enough to kill all desire in him. So what would having actually lived through it have done to Harry? This reluctance to be touched, this . . . _fear,_ it wasn't just some form of panic that could be overcome in a few days. 

Harry wasn't going to want to have sex for a long, long time. 

Severus ground his teeth together, his muscles aching again as he clenched them. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! He'd done his part! He'd got Harry past all his ridiculous virginal reluctance. He'd made the invocation work! Now he was supposed to be able to relax, finally, and reap the reward for all his labours! 

He'd gone into this with the expectation that whatever it might cost him to take Harry Potter into his life and home, at least he'd be getting _something_ in return! 

Severus pulled his lips back into a snarl, and uttered a few choice words on the subject. At least he could speak freely, now. No Harry here to frighten. Harry might be waiting, though, already in his bed. 

Sighing, Severus reached for the shampoo, but before he poured any into his palm, he thought again of Harry out there. Harry, who wouldn't care at all now if Severus was greasy and off-putting. Harry, who didn't want him anyway, and might not ever again. 

Severus put the shampoo back without using it, banging the unbreakable glass on a stone shelf, and stepped out of the shower. Ten seconds to towel himself off, then ten more with a drying spell. When he was done, his hair hung lank around his face. 

And Severus didn't care. 

The towel wrapped around him, he went into his bedroom to find it still empty. His nostrils flared as he considered going upstairs to fetch Harry. But no, Harry wasn't stupid enough to flout the contract. And he _did_ feel safe with Severus, he'd said, so he wouldn't hide upstairs forever, or Merlin forbid, run away. 

Severus opened the drawer where he kept his night-clothes, his hand instinctively reaching for a pair of pyjama bottoms, the same as he'd worn these past few nights with Harry. 

He saw one of his old night-shirts folded neatly alongside. 

_Serve him right if I wear that, _Severus thought, dispirited. What matter if it was off-putting? 

It was too much a step backwards, though, for Severus to actually wear it. Too much a symbol, so Severus chose the pyjama bottoms after all and slipped them on. 

Lights dimmed low, he waited for Harry, who came in a few minutes later, moving slowly, as if putting one foot in front of the other was taxing. Harry stopped five feet from the bed, and just stood there, his hands hanging at his sides, his eyes looking past Severus rather than at him. 

Severus waited. And waited. 

"Well?" 

Harry's voice trembled. "I . . . I guess you're pretty upset with me, now." 

_Yes, Severus was._ But he didn't think it would help to say so. "What happened to you was awful," he said in clipped tones. "Of course I'm upset about it. Get into bed, Harry." 

Harry climbed in reluctantly and held himself on the edge of the mattress, almost falling off. 

Another step backwards. They'd slept in each other's arms before, and that wasn't going to stop now. As long as it wasn't sexual, Harry had been able to bear it . . . no, no, more than that. He'd been comfortable. 

Sleeping without nightmares. 

Only now did Severus understand what that really meant. 

And touching helped; Harry had said so. 

Sighing, Severus reached out and laid his hands on Harry's stiff shoulders. Habit had him massaging them as he spoke. "You need to relax. You're safe with me, remember? You said so, yourself." 

"Yeah." Harry's voice was thick. "I . . . yeah. I know that, Severus." 

"Good, because we don't want you having any nightmares," said Severus quietly. "Move back a bit. Against me." 

Harry shuddered, but then he did it, shifting backwards inch by inch. When Severus slipped an arm beneath his head, though, Harry's body seemed to recognise the position as a familiar one. He did begin to relax, his muscles losing their tension. He leaned against Severus, sighing. 

Only to jerk in alarm when his arse touched Severus' groin. 

"It's all right, Harry," whispered Severus. Somehow, he managed not to pull the young man back against him. "I just want to hold you. Nothing more, I promise." 

"I . . . I know." Harry's teeth chattered as he lay there. For a long time it seemed he'd never move back, but then, very gradually, he shifted over again. This time, when his body fitted itself against Severus', Harry merely drew in a sharp breath, holding himself stiffly. 

But then, as sleep overcame the young man, that faded too, and bit by bit Harry relaxed in his arms. His breathing slowed. 

Severus pressed a kiss to Harry's hair. One hand moved to tuft through the soft, messy strands lightly. Severus lay there, gently stroking Harry's hair for a long, long time as he lay in the dark, thinking. 

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, June 21, 1998 ---- 7:09 a.m.**

Harry woke up to the feeling of being embraced. For a few seconds, that was all right, because he was alert enough to know that it was Severus' arm wrapped around him. 

And it really _did_ make him feel safe, to have Severus holding him. 

But as had happened the morning before, when Harry fully emerged from the warm cocoon of sleep, he began to register a hard, insistent pressure mashed up against him. And worse, given the position in which he'd gone to sleep, it was pressing up against his arse. 

Harry yelped and jerked himself away as fast as he could. Or tried, anyway. The arms around him tightened to keep him where he was, to hold him close. Harry felt his heart rate begin to accelerate, his breathing quickening. 

"Severus--" he finally managed, his voice sounding thin in his own ears. 

The other man's voice was lazy with sleep. "Mmm?" It took Severus only an instant more to properly wake. He let go of Harry, muttering something that might have been a brusque apology. Harry couldn't be sure, as he was more concerned with finally yanking himself away. 

All the way to the edge of the bed, where he lay panting lightly. "Sorry," he gasped out after a few moments. "I-- I know I have to get over it and let you . . . oh, _God._ " 

Severus sat up in the bed, leaning against his pillows. "You don't, however, have to get over it today, Harry. You obviously need some time to get past what happened to you." 

Harry rolled over a little, enough so he could see Severus' expression. "That's all right with you?" 

Severus didn't look as though it was particularly all right, Harry thought, but he did say, his voice deep and sincere, "There isn't much alternative. I don't like the idea that you fear me. I'm certainly not going to add to it." 

Nodding slowly, Harry thought he'd better say, "Well, it's not _you_ so much. Honestly. It's just, you know. Your . . ." He had to swallow hard before he could finish. "Feeling your cock . . . there." 

"Ah." Severus stared at Harry for a long moment before speaking. "I wasn't trying to alarm you, you realise. It's simply natural for me to be hard upon waking. Many men are the same." 

"I . . . yeah," said Harry. He knew exactly what Severus was talking about. Though he couldn't imagine ever having that happen to his own body again. Things down there were just dead for him. 

"Having an attractive young man in my bed will only tend to strengthen the reaction," Severus went on. 

"I wish you didn't think I was, then," muttered Harry. 

"But that's my point." Severus gestured to the area beside him, and even lifted the blankets so Harry could shift over. 

Harry could recognise a command when he saw one, but he really didn't want to move any closer to that hardness . . . on the other hand, Severus was lying on his back, and seemed pretty intent on calming him, Harry thought. So it wasn't too likely the other man would turn to face him, let alone rub anything up against him again. He'd only done that in the first place because he'd been asleep. 

Moving reluctantly, Harry wriggled over until he was lying on his back alongside Severus. 

"Harry, listen to me," said Severus quietly. "The fact that I find you attractive, that I want you, even, doesn't mean that I'm going to do anything about it. Do you understand? I'm a self-disciplined man. You need have no fear that I'll go mad with lust and force myself on you. Is that perfectly clear?" 

The plain speaking made Harry shiver. "Yeah, I know you won't," he said, his throat feeling tight. 

"In that same vein, when I become aroused, when you feel that I'm hard for you, that doesn't mean that I'm going to demand anything. Is that clear as well? No matter how hard I get, I'm not going to do anything without your consent. Can you believe that?" 

"I . . . yeah," Harry admitted, groaning. "But it doesn't matter. I mean, trust doesn't help. I just get jumpy, even thinking about it. Even though I know you aren't . . . them." 

Severus put an arm around Harry's shoulders and held him loosely. "All right?" 

Somehow, that simple question helped. A lot. "Yeah," said Harry, feeling less like his heart was stuck in his throat. "I don't mind . . . well, like with the kissing. That was all right. As long as I don't feel you _wanting_ me, I do all right, I think." 

"But you will feel me wanting you," said Severus, pulling Harry a little bit closer to his side. "It's inevitable. I understand that it may be difficult for you to tolerate at present--" 

"At present." Harry huffed. 

"Just try to remember that I won't harm you," continued Severus, though Harry thought he could hear a thrum of irritation in his voice, now. "The fact that I want you does not mean I plan to do anything about it. That's the point I wish you to understand." 

Harry gave a shaky nod. He did understand that, but like he'd said before, it didn't help much. 

"Good," said Severus. Beneath the forced brightness, the word sounded bleak. "I'll go have a shower, then. After that I've some rather crucial brewing to do. I thought you might like to go into Hogsmeade to fetch that cage for Hedwig--" 

_Shower. Good idea,_ Harry thought. He knew what Snape was going to do in the shower, of course, and he couldn't help but be glad of it. The more Snape satisfied himself, the better. 

Harry felt like a heavy weight had been pressing down on him for days and days, but now it was lifting. A bit, at least. 

He almost sighed with relief. 

Severus stiffened slightly, like he knew just why Harry had suddenly relaxed. But he didn't remark on it, and as long as he didn't, Harry wasn't going to, either. 

So, Severus would shower and take care of . . . things, and then he'd work on his potions while Harry went off to Hogsmeade . . . Harry's thoughts ground to a screeching halt. He couldn't go into Hogsmeade all by himself! What if some Death Eaters were hanging about? They were a lot more likely to be in a wizarding village than on the Tower Bridge, after all! 

Harry hated being so weak, and hated even more that he had to admit to it, but he didn't really see any other way. He was awfully tired of lies. And that wasn't even counting the way the mind bond was going to punish him if he made something up. "Um, Severus. About Hogsmeade. Can't you come with me? I haven't really felt very safe by myself . . . ever since. I mean, that was why I asked you to come out to the pitch with me, actually." 

Severus got up out of bed and faced Harry, his tented pyjama bottoms leaving no doubt as to the strength of his erection. After one glance, Harry kept his gaze averted. His breathing went shallow again, and part of him wanted to say that Severus shouldn't just stand there like that. But he figured Severus was doing it deliberately. 

Showing Harry that a raging hard-on wasn't going to make him get pushy about sex. 

"I didn't intend that you should go alone," corrected Severus. "That's inadvisable just so long as the Dark Lord and his followers remain alive. I thought you might see if Albus will accompany you." 

Harry frowned a little. "Won't he think that's strange, me asking him instead of you? Oh-- I get it. Vol-- the Dark Lord doesn't know you've left him for good. And the longer he doesn't know, the better." 

"Actually, I was thinking of other matters." Severus pushed his hair away from his face. "But you likely have a point. If you're reluctant to spend time with the headmaster I can go with you myself in a day or two, in disguise. Would you prefer that?" 

Harry thought it over, then shook his head. "I'd rather get a cage straight away. Before Hedwig forgets me completely." 

"Unlikely." Severus paused as if to say more, but in the end, merely turned away and stepped into his bathroom. 

He left the door cracked open again, as if in invitation. 

Harry ignored it and went upstairs to have a shower on his own. 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, June 21, 1998 ---- 7:24 a.m.**

Severus wrapped a hand around his throbbing cock as the hot water streamed over him. One pull, two. Some attention to the head, the lubricant from the mauve bottle making everything slick. Another long stroke, then harder ones, back and forth, Severus bringing himself off so quickly it was almost violent. 

He was long used to wanking in the shower. It was how he'd started his day throughout much of his adult life, after all. It was an efficient way to take care of his needs during those times when for propriety or safety's sake, he dared not visit a brothel. 

But it wasn't satisfying, not the way a warm body in bed with him could be. 

Or maybe it wasn't satisfying because of the unmistakable look of relief he'd just seen in Harry's eyes. A reprieve, that was Harry's view of Severus' shower. 

A reprieve. 

As if making love with Severus was something to be dreaded, something to be feared. 

But for Harry, of course, _it was._

Feeling his arousal threatening to wane, Severus redoubled his efforts to come, his hand moving so hard and fast over his cock that he knew he'd be sore later. He didn't care about that, though. Severus groaned as his semen spattered against the stone floor. The tang of orgasm wasn't sweet this time. It was bittersweet. 

It was nothing but release, and it wasn't enough. Severus wanted more. 

He wanted Harry. 

Groaning again, Severus leaned up against a wall and let the water simply flow over his feet as steam billowed all around. _Harry._ What was he going to do about Harry? He didn't know how to get them through this. He certainly didn't know how they were going to restore their sex life before Harry's birthday. 

He wished there were a potion that could make all of this better. Or make it go away. But there wasn't. Nothing in the subtle science or fine art of potions was of any use at all, not for this. He'd never even seen it referenced in a journal. 

But those focussed mainly on modern potion-brewing, of course, and _Cambiare Podentes_ was anything but modern. If the ancients could construct an enslavement spell of such staggering power, perhaps they'd known other things that would seem equally unbelievable. 

Severus racked his memory as the hot water continued to rain down. He didn't know as much as he could wish about potion-making during antiquity, but since it was a particular interest of his, he'd studied at some length over the past two decades. Too many nights alone, with little else to do. But that wasn't true any longer; he had Harry. 

And Harry needed help. 

So Severus kept thinking. The Babylonians, no. Egypt? Old Kingdom, Middle Kingdom? No, the Coptic wizards had nothing to offer. Nor the Greeks, even though they'd been the first wizards to formulate a code of conduct for the medicinal use of potions. Muggles had since appropriated it for their own healing sciences, but Severus knew that it originally dated back to wizards. 

_First, do no harm,_ it began. 

Severus had long thought it a ridiculous sentiment. There was a time and a place for poisons, after all. 

But now, the idealistic truism didn't make him scowl at all. There was probably a time and place for this dictum, too. 

_First, do no harm . . ._ he thought of Harry, panicking because Severus had held him an instant too long. Harry, dosing himself with Dragon's Happy because Severus had made it plain that he wanted to make love. 

Clearly, Harry had been feeling under a great deal of compulsion, and it was doing him nothing but harm. More pressure couldn't be what he needed from Severus. 

Sighing, Severus shut off the taps. This wasn't what he'd anticipated when he'd thought of having Harry in his bed. Days, weeks, who knew how long without sex. He was used to it, of course. And he could get used to it again. But it wasn't what he'd expected. 

It was, however, probably the best thing for Harry. And in the end, the best thing for their larger objective as well. Severus didn't only need to transfer his semen to Harry before that critical date of July 31, he also had to get them to a point where eventually, they could cross powers. 

And a Harry reluctant to have sex at all, let alone one who was traumatised, was going to make that impossible. 

So, first, Severus knew he had to do no harm. No pressure. No hinting that he'd like to make love, no double entendres. It all sounded very bleak to Severus. Doubtless, it _was_ bleak. He couldn't suggest making love, or anything like it, even, until Harry was ready. 

But how was he supposed to know when Harry was ready? Even asking was tantamount to a form of pressure. Or at least, it might seem so to Harry. 

Yes, how things seemed to _Harry . . ._ that was what Severus had to keep in mind. He suddenly remembered a night, not so very long ago, when he'd finally understood that Harry hadn't been expecting to find any pleasure in bed. Nothing Severus had said could alter his point of view. Nothing Severus had done was of any use either, not until he'd let Harry determine the pace of their lovemaking. 

And then, Harry had felt comfortable enough to begin to realise that everything would be fine. 

Severus didn't believe things would be so simple this time, of course. They weren't dealing with a mere case of the jitters, not any longer. This was far more serious. 

But still, it was the only thing to be done. Severus could see that now. He'd put Harry in control again, even though now, Harry wouldn't want to do anything sexual for a long, long time. 

Severus nodded grimly. More solitary showers didn't exactly appeal, but it was a better alternative than doing something that might make his problems with Harry even worse. 

So Severus would wait. As long as it took. Considering the fact that Harry's birthday was coming up, he knew it couldn't be forever, but the weeks between now and then still seemed to stretch out before him like eternity. 

Perhaps, though, he could use the time to try to get to know Harry a bit better. Surely there could be no harm in that. Harry had even intimated, back when he'd wanted to return to Norway, that it would help him feel more comfortable. 

Speaking of helping Harry feel comfortable, though . . . it didn't serve any real purpose to let his hair get even greasier, did it? Harry might not be attracted to him any longer, but that didn't mean Severus should make things as hard as he could, did it? He was a bit chagrined that he'd given in to such a fit of pique the night before. In retrospect, it seemed immature. 

Harry was immature enough for both of them, Severus thought a bit caustically. One of them had to be responsible about the situation they found themselves in. 

Spelling the taps back on, Severus washed his hair. 

Twice. 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, June 21, 1998 ---- 6:45 p.m.**

"So," said Severus as he began to cut his veal into neat slices. "Did you get a cage?" 

Harry pressed his lips together, wondering what to say. He felt like he hadn't had any choice when it came to lying about what had happened to him in London, since talking about it had just seemed impossible. He could hardly say that about discussing his day with the headmaster, even if he was a little worried about Severus' reaction. 

"I did get a cage, yeah." Harry felt his palms start to sweat. "But . . . well, the thing is, and I admit I should have thought of this before I left, I didn't have any cash money on me, right? So I had to go to Gringotts . . . actually, the headmaster said there were ways to charge things on the key you gave me, but since it's not really my key I wasn't sure it would work right. So I pretty much insisted he take me to the bank. He Apparated me to Diagon Alley. That's all right, isn't it?" 

To Harry's relief, Severus' expression remained calm. "I'd prefer we advance your Apparition skills so that you would not need side-along to travel from here to London." 

"No, I meant, that we went farther than you had in mind." 

"Do you still think you're some sort of prisoner?" Harry saw the other man's forehead wrinkle. "It's true that I wouldn't want you wandering far afield without adequate protection. Apart from that, you're an adult. How was Diagon?" 

"Well, the prices for cages seemed awfully high. I was going to get a finch cage and transfigure it larger, but the headmaster said Hedwig wouldn't want to use it. She'd know it might collapse back unexpectedly. Sensitive to magic." 

"Yes, owls are. Harry, a cage is a valid expense, and I know how much money you have access to. Why would you worry about the cost?" 

Despite Severus' easygoing manner, Harry tensed. "I just didn't want you thinking I was running through the money too fast." 

Severus shrugged. "If I start to think that, you can be sure I'll let you know. So, tell me about Diagon." 

Relaxing, Harry started doing just that. "I was actually a little concerned about going to Gringotts," he admitted. "I wasn't sure the goblins would let me have any Galleons, since they're yours, now. But they didn't even ask my name. The headmaster said the key would be spelled to allow use by only those you'd authorised." 

"Yes, but I still don't recommend you lose it, you understand." 

Harry smiled. "Right, of course. Well, anyway, we worked out the thing about the cage and then I . . ." Funny, he hadn't felt this awkward while he was shopping. His smile faded. "Um, look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the . . . you know . . . but you were pretty good about it, even about me lying to you like that, and, well . . ." Stopping for a moment, Harry breathed in and tried the _blurt_ method Hermione had taught him. Though he still didn't know why he felt so embarrassed about the other items he'd bought. "I got you some things." 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You got me some things." 

"Yeah, you know. To say I'm sorry." 

Severus leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Harry, I don't appreciate being lied to, but considering the context, it's understandable. I think very few young men would find it easy to admit they'd been assaulted in that way." 

"Well, maybe it wasn't so much to say sorry as to just say . . . um, you could have taken it worse, and you didn't, and I know that. Actually, the whole slavery thing could be a lot worse. I think it was more about that, actually." Harry felt his face heating slightly. "I don't know. I just saw a couple of things I thought you might like." 

The other man looked intrigued. "Ah. Well, this could be salutary, I suppose. What did you think I would like?" 

Harry pushed back his chair. "Just a second." 

He'd left the things upstairs, but he was back with them almost at once. Only then did he wonder if he should have had the gifts wrapped. On the other hand, he hadn't wanted the headmaster to know they were gifts at all, so . . . "Here," he said, setting a book and a box of sweets on the table. When he shoved them slightly towards Severus, the tablecloth bunched up a bit. 

Severus took up the book first. A strange look crossed his face, but it was wiped away almost at once. "Ah. _An Entirely New Theory of Potion-Making_ by Ebenezer Erickson. Thank you, Harry." 

Harry wondered what that odd look had meant. "You don't have it already, do you?" When Severus shook his head, his lips a solemn line, Harry smiled with relief. "Oh, good. I flipped through it for a while before I picked it for you. I don't claim to be an expert like you are, but I thought it had some really interesting ideas." 

Severus stared at the book cover for a moment before replying. When he spoke, his voice sounded just a tiny bit sardonic. "I shall give Erickson's new theory all the time it deserves, Harry." 

"And you can munch on these while you're reading." Harry gestured toward the box of chocolates. "Don't worry, I didn't get them from Fred and George. See there on the box? Honeyduke's Finest." 

"Yes, I can read, you understand," said Severus, one brow lifted. 

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, of course. Anyway, I stopped by there when we came back through Hogsmeade. They're nothing but chocolates, I promise. I wasn't sure what your favourite flavour might be, though. Raspberry-filled, chocolate-filled, what? I mean, these are caramel." 

"I'm sure I'll enjoy them just as much as I'd enjoy anything to be had at Honeydukes." 

Again, the tone of voice sounded . . . huh, Harry wasn't sure. Ever-so-slightly amused, maybe. Well, that was better than contemptuous. Harry's spirits lifted. He'd felt kind of silly, but it seemed he'd done all right with the gifts, after all. The friendly feeling washing through him even made him want to admit, "I found out something about the mind bond, too." 

"Oh?" Severus set his fork down, his dark eyes intense. 

"Well, maybe it's more about limits than the bond itself. But anyway, I don't get a headache or anything if I tell a lie to the headmaster. You didn't get that buzzing or whatever you get anytime today, did you?" 

Severus shook his head. "I'm curious why you would feel a need to lie to Albus. He surely didn't press you for any details pertaining to us, did he?" 

"Oh, no, not that. I just tried that _my name is Errol_ line on him. He gave me a funny look." 

"I'm certain." 

"So I guess the bond isn't meant to keep me from lying to anyone, ever." That was something, at least, he thought. "It's more to keep things a certain way between you and me." Harry suddenly shoved away his plate. "I don't usually lie all that much, I hope you know. But this idea that I _can't_ to you, not successfully anyway . . . I don't like it." 

"Few wizards would," said Severus, his features almost expressionless. 

_Well, at least it only happens when I tell Severus a flat-out lie,_ thought Harry, trying to cheer himself. _The half-truths I told him before didn't seem to make the bond flare._

He didn't end up cheering himself very much, actually. Maybe a distraction. "So, how did your brewing go today?" 

"Tolerably well." 

"What are you making, anyway?" 

Severus' forehead furrowed as if he was figuring out what to say. "Oh, a number of things." 

Harry felt a little bit slighted by that answer. Then again, he didn't really want to spend the evening discussing brewing. Severus probably knew that. Or maybe the other man thought Harry wouldn't understand what he was making. Which Harry very well might not, so . . . 

"Is it done?" 

Severus gave a dry laugh. "No, but two or three more days should do it, depending on the lypolitic tolerance of the newt liver and the--" 

Harry held up his hands, laughing a little. Definitely, he didn't want to spend the evening discussing it. "All right." 

"Actually, you've brought us around to the topic I wished to discuss," said Severus. "These brews will occupy a good part of my time until they are finished, but after I complete my project, I thought you might like to go to Norway once again." 

Harry tried not to gape, but he couldn't help but sputter a bit. Then he thought he understood. "Oh, you want to collect some rare ingredient that has to be harvested fresh by your own hand, something like that?" 

Another dry laugh. "Actually, I thought we'd do a bit of sightseeing. And dinner again. You did want to return, I believe?" 

Then Harry did gape. "Are you serious? I thought we couldn't!" 

"Well, I did think at one point that a pleasure trip would be foolhardy. Now, however?" Severus shrugged and drank the remainder of his wine. "It won't compromise my position with the Dark Lord. However, I still insist we be disguised. To go about together looking like ourselves _would_ be foolhardy, even in Scandinavia." 

Harry could certainly see that it would. When he thought of how he'd been recognised on the Tower Bridge, he felt like something was squirming inside him. "I . . . I'd like to go then, yes. But . . ." 

Severus gestured for Harry to speak. 

"It's just, I'm sure your glamours are a lot stronger than mine," Harry admitted, his voice quiet, "but I still don't think I can bear to rely on one. After mine fell . . . like that." 

Suddenly, Severus' hands were covering his, the other man's long fingers stroking over his own. "Polyjuice, then. Could you rely on that?" 

Harry nodded slowly. "I . . . yeah, I think so. Whose hair would we use, though?" 

"Oh, we can choose before we go," said Severus, releasing Harry's hands. "I have a rather large stock to choose from. Not just for Polyjuice, but other potions as well. But they will serve." 

"All right, then. That sounds pretty good." Harry tapped the table to send his dishes back to the kitchen. "What is there to do in Strasgard besides shop and eat?" 

"Not very much. I thought we might go to Bergen. Or Oslo, if you like. I'll tell you a bit about each city over dinner tomorrow." Severus pushed back his chair. "At the moment, however, I must be sure my beetle's legs are thoroughly dessicated. However . .. I think there is time to discuss one more thing." 

Harry looked across the table, waiting. It seemed to take Severus a little while to speak. The other man was nervous about something, Harry suddenly realised. 

"What happened to you . . . " Clearing his throat, Severus began again. "You're clearly reluctant for me to touch you in any sexually suggestive way." 

"Yeah," said Harry, his throat feeling tight. "I know what you're going to say. I have to do better--" 

"That is not what I was going to say," interrupted Severus. "Harry, I have given the matter considerable thought, last night and today. I believe the best thing we can do is put you in control again." 

Harry blinked. "Come again?" 

"Surely you recall that in the last few days before the end of term, I allowed you to take charge of any intimacies between us." 

Harry did remember that, but it didn't help much. "But back then, we hadn't invoked. Now that I'm your slave, how can you let me--" 

"I do wish you wouldn't harp on that so incessantly--" Sighing, Severus began again in a calmer tone. "I don't particularly want a slave, Harry. That you are one is unavoidable, I suppose, but nothing in the spell constrains how I must treat you. As long as _I_ am content for you to . . . initiate anything sexual between us, it should not pose a problem." 

"As long as," said Harry, tempted to scoff but managing not to be quite so openly rude. "I'm never going to want to initiate _anything_." 

For a moment, Harry wished he could call those words back. They'd come out a little more blunt than he'd intended. On the other hand, though, maybe it was good to be blunt. 

_The value of an open, honest relationship . . ._

"Regardless, I will endeavour not to pressure you." Severus looked into Harry's eyes. "I can't think it will help the situation. You can . . . have a holiday from even the thought of sex, if you like. And when you're ready to attempt anything, anything at all, you can let me know. By word or deed, whichever you prefer." 

"I _wish_ I could have a holiday," groaned Harry, resting his elbows on the table and settling his forehead against his palms. "But with my birthday coming up, I know I'd better not. I mean, it's like before the invocation, we don't have a minute to lose!" 

"Your birthday is weeks and weeks away. We have far more leeway than you seem to believe." Severus clenched his jaw for a second. "I never would have believed I would tell you this, but _yes_ , you must give yourself some time. Think about last night, Harry. It won't help things if you _force_ yourself to let me touch you. Until you feel more comfortable with the idea, proceeding with an intimate relationship can only make everything worse." 

"You're right -- I never did think I'd hear you say that." Harry sighed. "But yes. I guess the end of July's a while off. I'll try to just relax and see if I feel better in a while. God, I wish I had longer. Are we sure that stupid prophecy didn't say my twentieth year?" 

As a chiming noise echoed through the room, Severus stood up and drew his wand. Within a few seconds, his hair and face looked greasy. "I really must return to my laboratory," he said. "And the next stage of brewing will occupy me until late in the night. I'll join you in bed when I can." 

Harry nodded. "I'll wait up for you, then." 

"No." Severus turned back from the door. "Please yourself, Harry. I mean that, in this as well as what we were just discussing. Please yourself." 

With those words, he was gone. 

Harry sighed and laid his head down on the table. A holiday from anything too daunting, sure. He could do that. But when it came right down to it, in the long run he couldn't please himself. 

He had to please Severus, like it or not, because nothing else would allow them to cross powers. 

Badly in need of a distraction, Harry walked out to the owlery to get Hedwig, but the owl refused to come with him, actually flying off when Harry kept asking. 

Harry returned home to an empty cage, and then later downstairs, to an empty bed. 

  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 25, 1998 ---- 6:12 p.m.**

"And I thought Scotland got lots of rain," Harry said, opening up his umbrella yet again. "Well, I guess it's like that man down at the fish market told us. If it's not raining, you're not in Bergen." 

"People say that of Scotland, as well." Severus had a strong urge to push a lock of hair out of his face, but managed to quell the impulse. It was muscle memory, nothing more, since at the moment he was sporting rather short hair in a dark blond shade. Well, that was what you got from drinking Polyjuice infused with Muggle hair: a more modern look. 

Severus hated it, even more so than the Muggle clothes he was wearing. Robes had a certain presence about them. Besides, he felt practically naked, wearing jeans and a shirt to wander the streets of Bergen. 

Harry's own Muggle disguise obviously didn't bother _him_ , Severus thought. The young man seemed like he could hardly be happier. Of course, in Harry's case that might be understandable. He'd been jittery about the trip right up until the moment when he'd looked into the mirror in Severus' bathroom and nodded, obviously pleased. His hand, the knuckles knobbier than usual, had reached up to tuft through the reddish-gold hair laying sleekly across his forehead. He'd lifted the fringe to examine the smooth skin beneath. 

Severus knew exactly what he was looking for: a scar no longer there. 

"Oh, brilliant. Nobody will have the slightest idea who I am," he'd breathed. "I'm even taller and a bit stockier." 

Since Harry had seemed to be revelling in reassurance, Severus saw no harm in providing still more. "As long as we take care to sip potion at least once an hour, you'll be perfectly safe." 

Harry had tilted his head to the side, looking downward at the case on the counter. "Polyjuice takes a long time to brew, so I know that can't be what you were working on these last few days." 

Severus had almost told him, then. But the timing wasn't quite right. "It's useful enough that I keep a supply ready-brewed," he only said, hoping Harry wouldn't press his question. Perhaps a distraction was in order. Severus gestured at the rows of tiny vials in the case. "Now, for my own potion. Have you any preference as to how I should appear?" 

"Someone my age," Harry had said at once. "Or, I mean, about the same age as I look now. Twenty-three, something like that?" 

_Harry would like someone more his own age,_ Severus had realised. Of course, he'd known that before, but never before had it seemed quite so real to him. 

"That Muggle was twenty-six," Severus corrected, his voice going a bit harsh. 

Harry didn't seem to notice. Oblivious as usual, he kept prattling right on. "I didn't really think you'd have so much Muggle hair for us to choose from, you know. I sort of thought you'd get it more from wizards." 

"The idea is to be anonymous. Some wizards travel quite a bit, and we'd hardly wish to be recognised," said Severus scathingly. He was tempted to choose one that would make him as old and grey as Albus. _That_ would teach Harry to complain about Severus' age! 

His hand hovered over just such a vial, but in the end, he ended up yanking a hair from the one next to it. With this in his potion, he'd look no older than twenty-eight. 

Harry didn't react much to Severus' changed appearance, though he nodded as if satisfied. Then, his expression brightened, his mouth opening on a laugh. Reaching down, he tentatively put a hand on Severus' shoulder. "Hey. You're shorter than I am, now!" 

"Only by a few inches." 

"Yeah, well, every little bit helps." Harry was clearly so pleased by his sudden gain in height, and the reversal in their relative sizes, that Severus had felt his earlier annoyance melt away. 

"Shall we go, then?" He'd led the way to the Floo without further comment. 

As they'd wandered through Bergen, hunting out sites of interest, Harry had repeatedly looked over at Severus and sort of preened. Enjoying his newfound height, no doubt. Even his posture was better. 

It was wonderful to see Harry so carefree, looking happier than he had in days, but it was also rather sobering. 

It seemed to Severus that Harry was more content being someone else, than himself. 

But perhaps that was because Harry was used to his own appearance being so easily recognised. The young man wasn't comfortable with that, Severus now understood. Of course, it wasn't such a problem in Norway, but perhaps Harry didn't realise as much. Especially after the vicious attack he'd so recently endured. 

Harry would want to be cautious, yes. 

Which reminded Severus that their hour was nearly up. "Have another swallow now," he said quietly, watching as Harry shifted the umbrella over to his other hand so he could reach into his jeans pocket for his flask. 

"Ugh. Awful taste." Harry shuddered, wiping his lips afterwards. "But worth it, considering." 

Severus drank his own potion, then turned back toward the wizarding section of the town. As soon as they entered it, he sighed with relief. Finally, he could be decently attired. It merely required a tap of his wand to the counter in the cloak-check room, and his robes sailed forth from somewhere in the long row of garments awaiting their owners. 

Harry slipped his robe on, nodding. "Diagon Alley should have something like this so wizards can pass back and forth into London a little easier." 

"It is no matter to shrink one's robes," said Severus, shrugging. "Though on the continent it seems to be more common to check them. I thought I might as well acquaint you with the custom." 

He began briskly walking down one of the streets fanning out from the exit to Muggle Bergen, looking for one restaurant in particular. 

_Ah, there it was._

Turning to Harry, Severus asked casually, "Would you care to eat dinner before we return?" 

"Sounds good." Harry gave a rueful smile. "I don't even care this time that I won't be able to read the menu. I just want any other flavour to cover this one up. Ugh. I can still taste that . . . other stuff." 

"Flattery will get you everywhere." 

"Oh, I didn't mean--" Harry cleared his throat. "I know how it's supposed to taste, I mean." 

Once, Severus might have made capital of a comment like that. Now, though, he didn't want to ruin their evening. Especially not after all the trouble he'd gone to. A small thrill of anticipation shot through him. He couldn't wait to see the look on Harry's face once they sat down to order. 

Harry, of course, made things as difficult as possible. "I don't feel much like wrapping my brain around Norwegian like last time," he said, sighing as he fingered the menu the waiter had handed him. "Why don't you just choose for me?" 

"Read your menu," said Severus, keeping a straight face. 

"Really, I'm not even that hungry--" 

Exasperated, Severus reached across the table and opened it for him. 

"Oh! It's in English, too!" Harry grinned. "Well, I guess that's what you get for picking a restaurant where you don't have to tap the table to get the menu. Lucky break, eh?" 

_Oblivious_ , Severus thought, was likely too mild a term. "I chose this restaurant specifically for the bilingual menus," he said dryly. "Mind, we may not get the highest quality food that way, as it's an indication the establishment caters to tourists. But I thought you'd appreciate being able to read the menu for yourself, this time." 

Harry blinked. "That's . . . wow. Thanks. That's really thoughtful of you." 

Severus leaned forward, setting his own menu to the side, his features earnest. "I do wish I'd listened to you before, you know, when you said you wanted to go out to dinner again." 

He saw Harry swallow. "Yeah, I might not have felt like things were going to be so awful. They aren't awful, really. Except . . . you know, the one thing. But that's not your fault. I might still have stayed on in London when my uncle made it so clear I didn't really need to be in Surrey." 

Severus nodded briefly. He didn't blame himself for what had happened to Harry, but that didn't mean he was without regret, either. Reaching out a finger, he traced a line of English on the menu Harry had dropped flat in front of him. "This is my way of saying I will try harder to listen to you. But I need you to try harder to explain what you really need, do you understand? I didn't know you were expecting to be . . . kept so confined. I would have found a way to reassure you on that point, had I known. So, in future, please do tell me when something serious is bothering you. Yes?" 

Another swallow. And then Harry, speaking in a thick voice. "I'll . . . I'll work on it." 

"Good." Leaning back, Severus allowed Harry some time, then, to peruse the menu and make his selections. 

"What's with the elf-thing?" asked Harry in a low voice when the waiter had gone away again. "It's the same as last time, sort of a half-house-elf doing the serving?" 

"Norwegian elves tend to be taller." Severus shrugged. "Perhaps their ancestors came from a different area than those of British elves." 

"Oh, and there I was thinking that there must have been some interbreeding." 

Severus hurriedly swallowed some wine to keep from laughing. "With _wizards?_ No, no. That's not possible." 

"Why not? I mean, I do know that giants and humans can . . . er, get together." 

"Giants are a species of human to begin with." 

"You really know a lot." Harry's fingers were playing with the stem of his wine glass. Doubtless he didn't know what it was doing to Severus to watch that. "How'd you know this place would have the menu translated, anyway?" 

"I owled ahead in search of such an establishment." 

Harry's voice lilted with surprise. "You have an owl that can make it all the way to Norway?" 

"I only recently acquired her," said Severus with a meaningful glance at Harry. 

"You mean . . ." 

Severus was pleased that Harry, despite his eyes flashing with anger, retained enough presence of mind to avoid actually naming the owl in question. 

"I know she's yours now," said Harry furiously, "but how could you send her all this way? I'm sure that's not good for her! If you're going to owl across continents then use your own ruddy bird! I mean, _another_ one of your ruddy birds. All right?" 

"That would have defeated the purpose." 

The calm reply seemed to give Harry pause. "What purpose?" 

"I think you'll find she's quite content to live with you again," said Severus. "Her resentment at being given away was obviously bothering you--" 

"No, it wasn't, not that much--" 

"Oh, that explains why you've been going to the Owlery, your pockets stuffed full of treats, at least twice each day." 

Harry smiled, the expression a little sheepish. "Yeah, all right. I thought I could, you know, woo her back." 

"It didn't appear to be working, so I took matters into my own hands. When she got back with a note from this restaurant, her feathers were rather ruffled from the long flight. I told her that I frequently corresponded with the Continent, but if she'd rather resume being at your command, I was amenable." 

"You speak owlish?" 

"I believe you mean _Noctualtongue_." Severus waited just the instant it took for Harry's mouth to drop open. Then he shook his head. "No. My linguistic talent extends only to human languages. But magical owls are sensitive to emotion. I'm positive she knew what I was saying. You'll find her in her cage when we return this evening and I expect she'll give you no more nonsense." 

Harry nodded. "I still wish you hadn't sent her so far, you know, but . . . yeah. Thanks, I guess." Without another word, Harry began helping himself to small cubes of the marinated Edam cheese the waiter had set down on the table. Severus decided not to point out that that was _his_ starter, not Harry's. Harry hadn't ordered one of his own, but Severus realised he didn't much care if they shared. It reminded him of the meal they'd shared during the invocation, though this was of course far, far less intimate. 

"Do we have to go back this evening?" Harry asked, his lips slick with olive oil until he wiped them with his napkin. Again, Severus tried not to look. "I wanted to have a look at that museum, the one about the resistance in World War Two." 

"The _Thetamuseet._ " 

Harry nodded. "You don't really have to work tomorrow, do you? With it being summer and all?" 

"No, but I feel it's inadvisable to stay overnight." 

Harry glanced away. "So much for me telling you what I want." 

"I believe I said _need_ ," said Severus. "And in any case, you're misunderstanding me. Although at least now I'm beginning to get a sense for how often that happens. There's nothing to stop us from travelling. We can certainly return here and see the museum, as well as go other places. I think you'd like to travel." 

Harry nodded again, the gesture a bit more tentative this time. "And?" 

"I'd simply prefer we floo out each morning and return each night." 

"Oh. To your bed, yeah. I get it, now." Harry tapped his temple. 

"I didn't mean that." Severus lowered his voice. "I suspect any bed with me in it would qualify as _my bed_. Not wanting to stay overnight is merely a precaution on my part. And too, it's quite common, when wizards go sightseeing. We're not bound by distance the way Muggles can be." 

Harry grinned, then. "And there I thought it'd be a long time before I got to see Disneyland. Or Disneyworld. Whichever one's--" 

"Yes, in Florida." 

"So when can we pop over the pond?" Harry's eyes were gleaming with excitement. Severus wished he didn't have to put an end to that. 

"There aren't any Floo connections." Severus shook his head. "And it's too far to Apparate; we'd have to obtain a Portkey for trans-Atlantic travel. But I would need Albus' help to arrange that, and I can't imagine he'd wish for us to venture so far afield at this time. For the time being, then, I think we had better stay within range of the Floo network. We can use it anonymously, after all." 

Harry sighed. "Yeah, all right. It does sound like a riskier kind of trip. But I thought you said we could go someday." 

"We can. But not now." 

"After it's all over," said Harry, nodding. It seemed to Severus that for once they were understanding each other perfectly. 

"Yes. We can make a celebration of it." 

By then their dinners had arrived. As they ate, Severus found himself pleasantly surprised by the conversation that developed. Harry knew more Muggle history than Severus had anticipated--which made sense as he'd attended Muggle schools for so many years. He explained why he wanted to see the Resistance museum and talked a bit about parallels he'd noticed between Adolf Hitler and the Dark Lord. 

It was over dessert, though, that the conversation grew truly interesting. As a few charmed instruments began to play a low melody by Edvard Grieg, Harry turned his eyes towards the dance floor. 

He started, clearly astonished by something. 

Severus looked too, but wasn't able to determine what had caught Harry by surprise. He'd seen instruments play by themselves before; there was nothing extraordinary about that. "Problem?" 

The young man cleared his throat. Twice. Then he ventured in almost a whisper, "The dancing." 

Yes, there was dancing. Several couples had already taken to the floor. 

Surprised himself by then, and more than a little pleased, Severus stood up and extended a hand. "Would you care to dance?" 

Harry flushed a fiery, brick-red, and gestured frantically for Severus to sit back down. "Someone'll see you!" 

Severus looked at Harry, and then at the dance floor again, and made an effort to see things as Harry would. Nothing was particularly odd. There were merely some couples dancing . . . _Oh, so that was the problem. A few of the couples consisted of wizards dancing with other wizards._

Clearly, Harry was still hanging onto his Muggle attitudes. Some of them, at least. 

"It's perfectly accepted here, you realise," he patiently explained. "Do you see anyone besides yourself staring? No one will so much as lift a brow to see you and me dancing together." 

Harry finally turned his gaze away from the men on the dance floor. "Well, I don't know how anyway, and besides, it looks way too . . . I don't know." 

_Intimate_ , that was what the young man likely meant. And Harry wasn't ready for that. Wouldn't _be_ ready for a long time to come. And Severus had resolved to let Harry set the pace. Shrugging lightly, Severus resumed his seat. Just as well, really. If he started dancing with Harry, it would be difficult to tell him what he'd done the day before. 

Harry deserved to know. 

He waited until their serving elf had taken away their dinner plates and replaced them with small bowls of rum pudding, telling himself all the while that he wasn't afraid of Harry's reaction to his news. 

Finally, though, the elf went away again, and it was time for Severus to speak. 

A surreptitious flick of his wand set a privacy spell winding around them. A double precaution, since the tables were charmed for privacy to begin with. 

"Harry," Severus said quietly, ignoring the way the young man's head jerked on hearing his given name. "I have some news for you. Bole and Talmadge are dead." 

Harry glanced up, his forehead furrowed. "Did you just say that . . ." 

"Yes. Bole and Talmadge are dead." 

Harry blinked, clearly surprised. He looked away, obviously seeking privacy in which to think, then glanced once more at Severus. "Well, good. I guess Vol-- I mean, the Dark Lord, he must have killed them? I guess for letting me get away? He found out using Occlumency?" 

Severus shook his head, and was a little surprised when Harry looked confused. 

"Um, do you mean he didn't know about me, but he killed them for something else? He has always struck me as . . . mental when it comes to how he treats his followers." 

"They didn't die at his hand." 

Instead of clearing things up, that just made Harry look all the more confused. "Then, how? I mean, they're . . . uh, they were wizards. I don't think they'd let themselves get run over in traffic or anything like that." 

The image was so ludicrous that Severus had to make an effort to keep his lips in a straight line. "No, of course not." 

Harry stared at him for a moment more, and then the penny seemed to drop. "Oh," he said slowly, his eyes widening in shock. "No, that can't be right. Can it? I mean, I think you're saying . . . _you_ killed them?" 

Severus held Harry's gaze. "I did." 

Harry bit his lips. Each of them, in turn, and Severus wondered whether it would have been better to wait a few weeks, before telling him. But when he spoke, Harry's voice was fierce. " _Good._ I'm glad they're dead." He leaned close, his eyes narrowing. "How did you do it? _Avada Kedavra?_ Can you purge your wand of the spell, just in case?" 

"No. I didn't want to make it that . . . easy. You've had seven years of Potions class," said Severus softly. "I think you know how much suffering certain poisons can impart." 

"Not first-hand, I don't." Harry leaned even closer, then all at once sat back and folded his hands atop the table. Yet the look in his eyes was satisfied. "So _that's_ what you've been busy brewing this week. I couldn't figure out why you seemed to think it was so urgent." 

"Oh, it was urgent," Severus admitted, leaning back as well. "They didn't deserve to live, and my best chance to dispatch them was to get to them before being summoned again. As you know, the Dark Lord had given me to the end of the week to obtain the information he required. And after I ignored the next summons, word would go out that no Death Eater should trust me again. I did consider leaving them to you to deal with later, but in the end, I thought you'd feel better knowing they could never hurt you--or anyone else--again." 

"Good thought." Harry fell silent for a moment, as if debating with himself. "Tell me about it, then." 

Wary of what to say, Severus decided he'd best let Harry be his guide. "What do you want to know?" 

"They trusted you so much that they drank whatever, just on your say-so?" 

"Ah. It was a bit more complex than that." Severus laughed softly. "When you were flying around the turrets yesterday, I owled for them to meet me at once." 

Harry stiffened. "Not my-- I mean, not my favourite owl again." 

"No, a school owl." Severus waited, but when Harry said nothing more, he continued speaking. "Once they'd met me, I told them that I'd tricked Albus into telling me where you were located, this summer. I said that I had Polyjuice potion ready so that the three of us could masquerade as McGonagall, Hagrid, and Arthur Weasley, all people you would trust. Once we had you alone, we would take you to be interrogated and killed." Snape smiled, the expression thin. "Talmadge and Bole were only too willing to drink the poison." 

Harry was hardly breathing, Severus noticed. "What did it do to them?" 

Severus almost offered to let Harry view it in a pensieve, but then decided that if Harry wished that, he would ask. Still, he couldn't keep a note of vicious satisfaction from creeping into his voice. "I tried to let the punishment fit the crime. The poison I chose looks and smells very much like Polyjuice, but before it kills, it causes a man's cock to wither and fall off. Judging from their screams, it was most painful." 

Harry nodded, his gaze steady on Severus. Unflinching. "Did you say anything? Did they?" 

"There was no need for me to explain myself. And they were . . . too preoccupied to comment. I waited until they were clearly dying, and then took my leave." Harry's expression was hard to read, so Severus hurried to reassure him about the outcome. "There is no antidote to the poison I chose, Harry. Both those men are most certainly dead." 

Harry nodded, and seemed about to say something, but then appeared to change his mind. When the waiter brought coffee, the young man added a large amount of cream and sugar to his cup. Severus watched him, sipping his own black coffee, from time to time turning slightly to survey the dancing. More couples had taken to the floor. Severus wished he and Harry could be among them. He wanted to hold the young man, especially now. Just hold him close, and help him see that he was safe now. But dancing . . . Harry had been right, before. It _was_ intimate. And that meant it was for Harry to choose. Not Severus. 

A voice interrupted Severus' musings. 

"Thank you," Harry said, looking at him over the top of his cup, his eyes bright and moist. "For doing that. For telling me. I . . . I can't say I feel better, exactly, but it's like it still helps, you know?" 

Severus shrugged. He didn't want Harry to make too much of it. "I did it for myself, as much as for you. They deserved it." 

The young man didn't seem to hear him. His gaze was turned inwards. "I had thought about it, you know? I mean, I was worried about what I'd do if I saw them again. How it would be if they ever came back to the school for some reason, once term began, and I saw them in a corridor, or they came into the Great Hall while I was eating, and they would look at me and just . . . smirk." Harry gulped, and the words began to come more quickly. "Or what if they got into the castle during the summer one day, and I wasn't with you, and they found me . . . " 

Harry closed his eyes, and Severus reached across the table to take his hand. But Harry squared his shoulders and looked Severus in the eye again. "What I mean is, I'm glad you did it. It's a big relief. Huge. I don't think I can really explain--" 

"You don't have to," said Severus gently. "You needn't worry about seeing them again, ever again. Put it from your mind, if you can. It's truly over, now." 

He wasn't too surprised when Harry looked as though he couldn't believe that, even as he nodded. 

Sighing, Severus flicked his wand to summon the check, and simply said, "Let's go home now, Harry." 

Home, to another night of Harry changing into modest pyjamas upstairs before climbing into bed with Severus. Another night of Severus laying awake, hard and needy, filled with desire that had to wait until his shower. Another morning of Harry looking away and pretending he didn't notice Severus aching for him. 

It couldn't last forever. Severus knew that. 

The trouble was, it felt like it had been forever, already. 

  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, June 28, 1998 ---- 10:28 a.m.**

It was a good spell Severus had taught him, Harry thought as he sat eating a mid-morning snack of bangers and toast. He was reading while he ate, and the book's pages turned themselves whenever his eyes ran out of text. 

"I didn't realise how constantly you were going to eat," said Severus dryly as he came in from the front room. 

Harry shrugged. It seemed incredible to him now that he could have been so worried about food. He'd never had a summer like this, when he could have as much to eat as he liked. At any hour of the day or night, too. "Maybe I'm growing," he said around the bite in his mouth. 

Severus, he saw, grimaced slightly. Harry hurriedly swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Was there something you needed me to do?" 

The other man's eyebrows drew together slightly. "You say that like you need something to do." 

Harry smiled a little as he tapped the table to send all the dishes back to the kitchens. "Oh, well maybe I do. I bet it'll sound strange, but I've been getting kind of bored. I mean, I can only fly around the turrets for so long before it gets a bit old. I never thought it would, but . . ." Harry lifted his shoulders. 

Pulling out a chair opposite Harry's, Severus sat down. "I've no interest in assigning you tasks." 

"I know that." Harry sighed. "It's just . . . I've never been bored before. Not like this, anyway. When school was on there was always plenty to do. Classes, or Quidditch, or homework, not to mention parties in the common room--" 

"Or hare-brained Gryffindor escapades," said Severus, leaning back and crossing his legs. 

Harry was getting more used to that sort of remark. "Hey, the Philosopher's Stone really did need rescuing, you know. Just not from you." 

"Yes, and I'm sure that you never once misused your cloak for less vaunted purposes." 

Harry ignored that crack as well. "About being so bored. I know I can do whatever I'd like, but that's just the problem. I don't know what I like!" 

"When term begins again you'll be so busy that you'll long again for summer," Severus predicted. "Enjoy your holiday. It's certainly been earned. And Harry, perhaps you can use the time to discover what it is you do like, apart from Defence and Quidditch." 

Good advice. 

"And eating," Severus added in a teasing voice. 

"Very funny." 

"Hedwig is behaving herself, I trust?" The other man's dark eyes glimmered. "If not, I can certainly devise a reason why I must send urgent post to a potions master in Vladivostok." 

Harry didn't know where that was, but he could tell it was far. Way too far to send Hedwig. "Hedwig's been great," he said shortly. 

"And of course you wouldn't mislead me on that account." 

"Well, I _might_ ," said Harry sourly, "but when all it's going to get me is a blazing headache and you knowing I'm lying, there's not much point." 

Severus' hair swayed as he nodded. "I didn't mean that you were lying, Harry. Merely that I would understand your being protective of the owl you had for so many years." 

"She knows me pretty well, I think," said Harry, sighing. "So well that I think she can sense something strange going on. Maybe at first she was too angry with me for it to matter to her, but lately, she looks at me like she . . . I don't know. Almost like she understands." Harry felt himself colouring. "Probably my imagination, huh? Probably I'm . . . um, anthromorpholigising her?" 

"Anthropomorphising. And no, you aren't. Owls are very sensitive to magic, as I told you. I expect she realises now that you in fact aren't able to own her." 

"Yeah, but short of Noctualtongue, how could you know for sure what Hedwig realises or not?" 

"This is how," said Severus, reaching into an inner robe pocket. He drew out a letter and laid it on the table. 

_Harry Potter,_ the direction simply read. The writing was Hermione's. 

Harry bit his lip. "You know, she's the only person besides you and Albus, oh, and Poppy, who knows I'm here. I've kind of been wondering why she hadn't once written. I guess I figured she didn't know what to say to me now." 

"She quite prudently left off any mention of your location, which no doubt contributed to some delay." Severus paused for a moment. It looked to Harry as if he had bad news to break, and was figuring out how best to do it. "It appears that post directed to you will be brought to me, Harry." 

A lump seemed to form in Harry's throat. "Like if I addressed a letter to Crookshanks it would go to Hermione, I bet," he said, his voice dull. 

Severus raised an eyebrow. 

"Hermione's cat," Harry explained. 

"You are not analogous to a pet," said Severus, shaking his head. "However, magical owls appear able to sense that you belong to me and that everything concerning you is rightfully my province. This letter was delivered to my classroom office." 

Harry did his best to stop feeling like that made him something less than a full person. Of course, in a legal sense he _wasn't_ a person any longer, was he? According to the magic that ruled him, he was property now. But he was still a human being, just as Severus had said. He tried to hold onto that thought, even as he complained, "Do professors often get post in their offices, Severus? Because that'll make things awkward? Won't students you yell at in there see letters addressed to me and wonder what the hell is going on?" 

"I think I'm capable of an obfuscating charm." 

"Oh. Yeah." 

"However, you raise a valid point," Snape went on. "Letters come to my office during holidays, but when term begins, all staff post will be delivered to the head table. Unless we want it known that our lives are intertwined, we will need to take steps. I suggest we sit next to one another during meals. That way it shouldn't be too obvious that I am receiving your post." 

"That's going to look awfully strange, me seated next to you, when all my mates from last year know that--" Harry abruptly stopped talking. "Sorry. I mean, they _think_ that I can't stand you. I actually can, you know." 

"Yes. We're getting on tolerably well, all things considered." 

_Tolerably well_ was an understatement, as far as Harry was concerned. He still couldn't really believe how everything had turned out. It wasn't wonderful to be a slave, certainly, and it definitely wasn't welcome news that even _owls_ had an inkling of his status, but he had to admit that Severus had been . . . well, honourable about the whole thing. True to his word, he _wasn't_ treating Harry even remotely like a slave. It was more like they were just sharing quarters. 

Though of course, they were supposed to be sharing a lot more than that. But even when it came to that, Severus was being decent. Harry knew the other man wanted him. It would be difficult _not_ to know that much, considering the state Severus was in every morning when he woke up. A shower always seemed to take care of it, but then at odd times during the day or evening, Harry would catch Severus looking at him in a certain way, and Harry would just know the man was thinking about sex. 

It made Harry feel cold and fractured inside, knowing what Severus was imagining. 

But just as he'd promised, Severus was leaving it up to Harry to initiate any sort of intimacy. Severus didn't even pull him close in bed when they were going to sleep, or try to kiss him, or _anything._ It was all completely up to Harry. They did sometimes wake up a little bit entwined around each other, the dungeons being so cold, but the minute Severus was properly awake he moved back to his own side of the bed. 

Harry really didn't have anything he could complain about. Nothing that was Severus' fault, at any rate. And then there were all the things Severus was doing to try to help make Harry more comfortable in his new life. Norway. Hedwig. All but giving him back the property from the invocation. Even the vault with its vast stores of gold. Severus had _killed_ Bole and Talmadge. Maybe he'd done it partly for his own reasons, but he'd also done it for Harry. And what had Harry done in return? 

The chocolates and the book he'd given Severus suddenly seemed shallow. Because he knew what Severus wanted from him, didn't he? 

But Harry couldn't give that. He'd have to soon, but not yet. 

Maybe he could do better than he'd been doing, though. He suddenly felt a strong urge to do something for Severus, in return. 

Harry shifted restlessly, a little startled when the abrupt movement was strong enough to move his chair. "Um . . ." Oh God, this was embarrassing. He knew it shouldn't be. After the way he'd acted on Dragon's Happy, he wasn't saying anything Severus didn't already know. "You know how I said I like kissing you?" 

Severus' lips curled upwards slightly. "In that respect I would say we get on far more than tolerably well." 

"Yeah . . ." Harry blew a breath out through his mouth. "Well, even after I was . . . well, you know what happened to me. But even after that, I still did like kissing you. I mean, as long as it didn't make you want . . . uh, more." 

"Kissing you always makes me want quite a lot more." 

Harry nodded jerkily. Yeah, he knew that. "As long as it doesn't make you demand more, I meant. But I know you won't." He was pretty sure Severus knew exactly what he was saying. But Severus made him actually _say_ it. That might have really annoyed Harry, except for one thing. He thought Severus was just making sure Harry stayed in charge of everything. 

"And so?" 

Harry braced himself. It shouldn't be so difficult. But it was. "I think I have to . . . uh, ease into things, you know? To get ready for my birthday, which isn't so far off. I thought we could start with kissing again. Some." 

"You aren't under the impression you have to ask _my_ consent, are you?" Severus' voice was a little dry. 

"No, but . . ." Harry looked away. "I just thought, it might help me, but it might be a little hard on you." 

"More than a little hard, I assure you." 

Severus sounded like he was in a good humour. For some reason, it made Harry feel even more miserable. "Yeah, exactly. I . . . uh, I wouldn't want you to think I was doing that to you on purpose." He remembered then, a couple of the things that Richard had said. "I know it's not very considerate to get you that way when I can't . . . er, do anything about it, right?" 

By the time he got all that out, Harry felt like he must be brick red. 

"There's value in anticipation." Severus' fingers, Harry noticed, were stroking the tablecloth. "Though I will admit I've had a fair bit of that already. But considering our situation? It won't last forever." 

"I don't know how I can get over everything in just a month more." 

"Don't think about it," Severus advised. "Concentrate on today and tonight." 

"Tonight, yeah." Harry pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'll try tonight, then. The kissing. Because right now I want to read Hermione's letter. That's all right, isn't it?" 

Severus' features were a little tense, Harry thought. "Yes, of course. You're in charge." 

Harry nodded. He felt then that he _would_ get through it. But he still didn't want to start in on the kissing until later. Grabbing the letter, he headed upstairs where he could read in privacy. 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, June 28, 1998 ---- 12:18 p.m.**

After what he'd found out about his post, Harry wasn't too sure that Hedwig would take a letter from him. Maybe he'd have to write _out_ via Severus, as well. But the owl didn't seem to object when Harry handed her his reply to Hermione. 

Perhaps because technically, Hedwig belonged to Severus now, and was only serving Harry at his insistence. 

He watched as Hedwig flapped away into the distance, heading out toward the pitch and then into the hills beyond. Once the letter was beyond his reach, Harry wished he could call it back. But he'd probably done all right. He'd kept the contract in mind the whole time, and had rewritten the letter twice to be sure he wasn't saying anything Severus would consider personal. 

It was hard, though, when Hermione's own letter had been so full of love and concern for him. 

  
  
  
  


_Dear Harry,_ she had written, 

_I hardly know what to write you. I know that in a lot of ways you weren't looking forward to your new job, but I think you must have started it by now. Is everything going all right with that?_

_I've taken a job this summer. I'm working in my parents' practice, entering patient information into a new computer system they've just bought. I'm still trying to decide what to do. I have three Apprenticeship offers, but my parents still want me to work for a year and then apply to Muggle university. They keep insisting that seven years in wizarding school is well and good, but if I want a career in wizard-Muggle relations I'll need to have more credentials in both worlds. And they won't listen to me when I say I've changed my mind about the whole career-in-public-service thing. Well, at least I don't have to decide until the middle of August. Right now I'm leaning toward the Arithmancy apprenticeship._

_Well, I've just re-read what I've written so far, and it's all I can do not to cross the whole last paragraph out. Really, Harry, I'm a lot more concerned about you than about a decision I don't have to make for weeks and weeks yet. The trouble is, I don't know of anything I can do to help you. Everything I can think of would probably just interfere with your new job, so that's no good. But if you can, please do write me to let me know how you're doing. I miss seeing you every day._

_Hermione_

  
  
  
  


It had taken Harry at least fifteen minutes to even get started on a reply. He'd sat there at the table in his . . . in the sitting room of Severus' upstairs quarters, and chewed the end of his quill. Finally, he'd taken a stab at answering her, only to crumple up the parchment when he noticed himself writing, _My new boss hasn't made me start any of my real duties, yet._

That was pretty damned personal, considering that Hermione would know exactly what he meant. 

His second reply was discarded when Harry started writing without thinking, and used the word _invocation_. 

On the third try, however, he managed to make it all the way through a draft: 

  
  
  
  


_Dear Hermione,_

_It was really good to hear from you. If my reply arrives a little late it's because there was a little delay in my getting your own letter. That's all right, though. Better late than never._

_Yes, I have started my new job. I can't really go into a lot of detail, but I can tell you that so far it's actually going all right. The boss is a lot more reasonable than I thought he would be. Well, than I thought at first. It's working out._

_Best of all, it turns out that when Hogwarts starts up again, I'll be able to get a job on staff! Bet you didn't expect to hear that, did you? But it's true. The headmaster is going to arrange for the Hogwarts Defence professor to have a teaching assistant. And I get to coach all the house teams on better Quidditch strategies. So it looks like I'll have plenty to do, and all of it stuff I really like. I just hope we get a decent Defence teacher for once. If I have to work with someone who turns out to be evil, or an idiot, I think I might tear out my hair._

_Dumbledore's letting me have a little bit of say in who gets hired, though. He let me read through the papers the applicants submitted. Can you believe Umbridge had the nerve to ask for her job back?_ _I saw the headmaster a couple of days ago, and we had a good laugh over that. And then he taught me a shredding spell, and we tore her papers up into tiny little bits that danced their way into the fire as we had tea and scones._

_Oh, I bet this'll really surprise you, too, but I'm going to Paris later this week. Turns out my new boss likes to travel. I've already been to Scandinavia. Twice. I wish I could see your face!_

_Well, that's about all I have to say, for now. Don't worry about me, all right? This job isn't exactly what I would have chosen, but I'm a lot happier than I expected to be. Tell your parents hallo from me. And speaking of your parents, they aren't the ones who have to live your life. You are. So make sure you pick the apprenticeship that you want the most, Hermione. Don't go to Muggle university unless that's what's best for you and your future. You do what you want with your life. I think you know why that would matter to me so much._

_Love,_

_Harry_

_  
  
  
  
_

Once he'd finished the letter, Harry tried to read for a while, but nothing held his interest. _Bored_ didn't even really begin to describe it. 

And it was ridiculous, really. He could do anything he wanted, practically. It didn't seem like Severus cared at all how he wanted to spend his time. The other man had meant it when he'd said that Harry should please himself. 

But that was just the problem. When had Harry ever had hours and hours to himself, to figure out what he liked to do? Well, actually, he had had _lots_ of hours like that at the Dursleys', but being locked in his room hadn't exactly helped him develop his own interests or hobbies. And anyway, most of his summer days--nights too, sometimes--had been stuffed solid with chores. 

But now he had no chores at all, and no homework, and he'd discovered that there was only so much flying he could do in a day. Especially since he was still too cowardly to go down to the pitch on his own. He'd been flying 'round and 'round the castle because he just couldn't face the prospect of asking Severus to go to the pitch with him again. It would be ten times worse now that Severus knew how much reason he had to be afraid. 

Sighing, Harry stared out the window. The rolling green hills in the distance seemed to beckon him. He could take a walk through them, and explore the countryside . . . if he could get over the feeling that Death Eaters might Apparate out of the thin air. 

He should be feeling more at ease by now. Bole and Talmadge were dead. They couldn't hurt him any longer. The Death Eaters didn't even know he was at Hogwarts. 

But still, Harry looked away from the window, rubbing his arms to ward away the sudden chill that was raising gooseflesh. He couldn't leave the castle alone; it was as simple as that. No matter how bored he got. 

In the circumstances, he supposed it was an awfully good thing that Severus was willing to take him travelling. At least it got him out of Hogwarts for the day. 

Harry nodded to himself as he fetched the small rock the headmaster had given him. He didn't know if the library would stretch to travel books, but he didn't know that it wouldn't. Maybe he could find a _Wizard's Guide to Paris_ or something like that. 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, June 28, 1998 ---- 3:17 p.m.**

The library did have travel books. Harry took several with him when he left. It was late enough that he thought Severus would already have eaten lunch, so Harry made his way over to the kitchens to get some food. 

He'd hoped to see Dobby, but the elf was off somewhere, he supposed. Harry got a picnic basket with about five times as much food as he could possibly eat, and sat out in the bailey working his way through it as he kept reading. Not just about Paris, either. He thought Italy looked interesting too. 

Apparently the Muggles only _thought_ they were using clever engineering to hold the Leaning Tower of Pisa up. Really, it was being done through magic. Harry laughed when he found that out. 

He wasn't laughing, though, when he looked up at the sky and noticed how late it was. He had to go back soon. Which normally wouldn't be a problem, as he was getting used to thinking of Severus' home as his own, and all in all, he was getting on pretty well with the other man. 

But now, he couldn't stop himself from remembering his offer--had it been an offer?--to start kissing Severus again. Part of him wished he'd never mentioned it. It would be easier to just go along as they had been, with Harry pretending he had all the time in the world to get used to the idea of sex. 

He _didn't_ have all the time in the world, though. Really, he had so little that he wondered if he'd already wasted too much of it hesitating. 

And why was he hesitating so much, anyway? Sure, he was afraid and kind of horrified at the idea of Severus getting hard for him and wanting to do things, but it wasn't like that _wouldn't_ happen if they didn't kiss. Severus woke up hard every morning, and kept taking those suspiciously long showers. Harry knew what that was all about. And he was relieved. _He_ certainly didn't want to have to do anything about Severus' needs. 

Except, that was what he was here for, wasn't it? To serve Severus' needs. Especially that one. And he had to learn to do it, too, or they'd never cross powers. Not that he had to worry much about _that_ yet. First things first. He'd be dead on his birthday if he didn't get over this reluctance to touch and be touched. 

His hands clenched the books he was carrying as he made his way back into the castle and along the corridors inside. He was reluctant, yes. But there was another part of him that knew he liked kissing Severus. Knew he liked touching him as well . . . as long as it didn't go too far. It was that part that had spoken up that morning. 

And the look on Severus' face when Harry had said he'd like to try kissing again . . . Harry swallowed. Clearly, Severus was eager for that, though he hadn't once asked. 

That in itself was like a measure of the man, Harry thought. Sure, Severus Snape could be petty and mean-spirited and immature--Harry knew all that firsthand. But the fact was, Severus _hadn't_ been any of those things lately. Not to Harry, anyway. 

He could have made Harry's life a living hell. Could have worked him like the slave he was. Could have been worse than the Dursleys. 

But instead he'd given Harry rooms to himself, and as much independence as possible. And if all Harry could give him in return was a little bit of kissing . . . well, it was pretty selfish of Harry to be reluctant at all, wasn't it? 

Especially since he knew perfectly well that Severus wouldn't let things get out of hand. If Harry said _no_ , Severus would stop. Harry didn't have any doubt of it. 

So then, it was time for Harry to start, wasn't it? He had to, and not just because July 31st was getting closer every day. He also owed it to Severus. 

  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, June 28, 1998 ---- 7:34 p.m.**

"It's stupid to be nervous, I know," Harry said, sighing as he pushed away what remained of his slice of chocolate cake. 

"Understandable, I would think," murmured Severus, setting down his espresso. 

"But we've kissed loads of times, and I even _like_ it." Harry looked up briefly, his expression uncertain. "More than I did with Cho. Or Ginny, that time. A lot more. I wonder sometimes, if things were different, if I'd have found a girl to suit me, you know?" 

"Things aren't different." Severus wished he knew what else to say. 

"Yeah, what is, _is._ Right." Harry gave what looked like an attempt at a decisive nod. "Anyway, I also wonder if I'd eventually have figured it out, you know?" 

Severus arched an eyebrow. 

"Oh. That I like men too," Harry added, stumbling slightly over the last two words. 

The young man might understand his own preferences better now, but that didn't mean he was entirely at ease with them, Severus thought. 

"I guess I wouldn't have figured it out," said Harry. "I mean, it never would have occurred to me that things are different in the wizarding world. That it's . . . you know, all right." 

"It's all right in the Muggle world as well. Some of the Muggles just don't know it." 

A corner of Harry's mouth turned up. "No offence, but that's not too useful, Severus." 

Severus merely shrugged. 

Harry sighed again. "I guess it's time, then." He paused, almost as if he was expecting Severus to step in with a suggestion, then resumed. "Um . . . so let's go to the couch, I guess." 

Severus had hoped they might kiss in bed, but realised that was probably asking a bit much. 

"You have your wand on you, don't you?" added Harry as Severus followed his lead and stood up. "I thought maybe _Sensatus_ would help, you know? Unless it'll interfere with crossing powers later or something?" 

"If we used it constantly, that could pose an issue." Severus moved out to the sitting room and seated himself. Harry sat down next to him, close enough to touch. "Did you want me to cast it now?" 

Harry's hair got messier than usual as he shook his head. "No. I can take the kissing. I'm pretty sure, anyway. But I thought we might try touching some. And I'm not sure . . ." 

_Touching_. Severus felt his heart rate accelerate, even as he struggled with the knowledge that it wouldn't do Harry any good at all to push himself too fast toward the inevitable result. "It's not yet even July," he pointed out, keeping his voice level only with great effort. "You do have time, Harry." 

"Not enough." Harry's chest expanded. "Um . . . I thought I'd take off my shirt. And I wanted you to take yours off as well. And then we'll start." 

Severus wanted to say that each man undressing himself was hardly the most enjoyable way to go about things. Perhaps it was all Harry could manage just now, however. With that thought in mind, Severus shifted over slightly and began undoing his buttons. Harry didn't look at him as he did the same. 

Once they were both bared to the waist, Harry turned toward Severus and looped his arms around his neck. He lifted his mouth, clearly expecting Severus to begin the kissing. 

So Severus did, lowering his head until their mouths touched. 

Harry parted his lips without hesitation and kissed him back, his arms tightening around Severus' neck. 

Severus felt his body reacting predictably, his cock lengthening and hardening until his pants became uncomfortably tight. He wondered if the kiss was having any effect like that on Harry, this time, but he knew better than to reach down to feel for himself. When he broke off the kiss he couldn't help but glance down to see, but Harry's shirt was on his lap. 

"You really are a good kisser," Harry said, his voice a little breathy. This time he was the one to kiss first, his hands tugging Severus' mouth down to his own. The room began to feel warm, and then hot. Severus shifted on the settee, his arms coming around Harry. He'd avoided that at first, not wanting the young man to feel trapped, but now, Severus couldn't stop himself from pulling him close. 

Harry didn't fight him, didn't resist at all. As the minutes passed, it became more difficult than Severus would have believed to confine himself to kisses only. As Harry shifted to turn more towards him, their bare chests ended up pressed together. It made Severus want more contact. A good deal more. He felt entitled to more, in fact. Harry was _his_ , after all. His lover. Severus had been denying himself for too long. 

He wanted to press the young man backwards, into the cushions, and take his rightful place atop him. 

But he also wanted Harry to heal, and not just because it was necessary if they were ever to cross powers. He wanted Harry whole, he realised. 

Severus broke the kiss off again, his hands shaking a little bit. 

Harry looked down at that, his own mouth trembling a little. Or maybe he was looking down at Severus' lap. No shirt there to obscure the truth. "You want me." 

"It bothers you, still?" 

"Not so much." Harry started rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "I mean, I know you aren't going to do anything about it." 

Severus couldn't contain his need to know. "Are you aroused at all?" 

Harry's nod was shaky. "Um, yeah. A little. It feels strange. Like I can't get past a certain point. It's not like before." 

Severus hadn't expected it to be. He was relieved that Harry could feel something. 

" _Sensatus_ , now. All right?" Harry's voice sounded uncertain. He evidently wasn't sure if the spell was the best way to proceed. Severus wished heartily that at least one of them knew how this should go. He felt just as much in the dark as Harry. 

"Certainly." Backing up as he drew his wand, Severus waved it vaguely toward Harry's torso. "Anywhere in particular?" 

"Oh." Harry started shaking his head. "I actually thought it might be good if I touched you. At least to start. So . . . my fingertips? Like you did that one time?" 

Severus couldn't help but frown. "You believe you need a spell to enjoy touching me?" 

"No, but it'll help me focus on enjoying it." Harry cleared his throat. "I don't want to be worrying about what's coming next." 

"Nothing's coming next except what you choose." 

"I meant next in kind of a month-long sense. I have a lot on my mind and _Sensatus_ makes your worries not matter so much. At least, it worked that way before." 

Severus had to wonder then, why he was arguing. Harry touching him sounded brilliant, after all. Perhaps he simply didn't like the implication that the young man couldn't bear it without magic. But that wasn't quite what Harry had meant by asking for the spell, he saw now. 

Severus touched his wand tip to each of Harry's fingers, and then both his palms as he incanted _Sensatus._

And then Harry's hands were on his shoulders, massaging them. The young man's lips parted, his breaths coming in quick rasps. "Mmm," he said, closing his eyes on the sound, as if to savour without distractions the pure pleasure of touch alone. 

Harry's fingers traced his scars, his attention to them gentle and thorough. 

And Severus found that this time, he didn't mind as much. Perhaps because he knew Harry better now. The young man was scarred himself, and not just on the outside. If anyone would understand the pain that came from a close relative's disdain, it would be Harry. 

Harry's fingers stilled as his eyes opened, the spell evidently fading. He smiled, his expression hard to read until Severus realised it was relief. "I _do_ still like touching you," he whispered, meeting Severus' eyes. "I . . . I don't think you know what it's like for me, since you've never . . ." 

_Been raped,_ Severus mentally completed. But that wasn't what Harry was thinking. 

"Been a slave," he finished. "It probably helps a lot that I don't feel like one. I mean, I have to remind myself about it. But I thought maybe it would make me feel . . . awkward, about um, doing something that could be seen as serving you." 

So that was why Harry had wanted to touch him first. For reassurance. So he'd know that being a slave didn't change their lovemaking. Severus nodded, his eyes steady on Harry's face. 

"Can you _Sensatus_ my lips, now? I want to try something else." 

Severus didn't have any difficulty imagining what. He still felt mildly perturbed that Harry would want the spell, but cast it nonetheless, and leaned back against the cushions as the young man leaned half across his lap, facing him, a position which put Harry in a good position to kiss Severus' chest. 

And kiss it he did. Thoroughly, until Severus ached and throbbed with desperation. With raw need. 

_He's yours, in every possible way._ The insidious voice inside him became more insistent with every passing moment. _He's yours more fully than a mere lover could ever be. He can't leave you. You can take what you want. You can take it all, because you own him and it's your right. Harry James Potter is utterly yours . . ._

But that, of course, was precisely why Severus had to do what was best for Harry. 

Settling his hands on Harry's shoulders, Severus gently pushed him away. Cool air wafted over his left nipple, the one Harry had been laving. Severus wanted the warmth of Harry's mouth back, but instead, he pushed again, until Harry glanced up in question. 

"It's too much," Severus explained. "It's too good. If you continue, I'll have to touch you back." 

Harry's voice was thick as he answered. "But . . . I want you to touch me back." 

The young man sounded surprised by what he'd said. Like he'd spoken without thinking. 

Severus could not have said which pleased him more, the invitation or the frank way in which it had been delivered. " _Sensatus_ again, then?" 

"Yeah." Harry shifted off his lap and glanced up through his fringe. "Sorry." 

"Don't apologise for what you need." 

Harry drew his own wand from a pocket and pointed it at the fire, almost extinguishing the flames. The room subsided into flickering shadows. Then he arched his neck. 

Severus understood at once. He cast _Sensatus_ on that tanned column of flesh, then moved to massage and then kiss Harry's neck and shoulders, pulling the young man back onto his lap. 

He knew the exact instant when the spell faded. Harry stiffened and gasped, the sound born more of panic than pleasure. Severus loosened his grip on the young man, but Harry made no move to flee. He just sat there, biting his lip. 

"Is it not good without the spell?" 

"That's not it. But without the spell I can feel you." 

"My arousal, you mean." 

Harry didn't answer that, but then again, the answer was obvious. 

"Perhaps side by side--" 

"No." Harry was shaking his head, though his expression was still far from certain. "I have to get used to it. And I trust you." 

He didn't sound as though he did, but Severus took him at his word and reached for his wand again. Harry's wrist on his stilled the movement. "Let's try it without." 

Nodding, Severus bent his head to Harry's shoulder and began to kiss him again, his lips and tongue caressing the place where the shoulder ended and neck began. Harry shuddered, but it was a good shudder. Severus could tell. 

Long moments passed, Severus touching and kissing every part of Harry's neck and chest. With every caress, Harry relaxed more. Severus didn't know if the young man had forgotten about Severus' erection thrusting upward into the back of his thighs, but he was certainly managing to endure it. To overlook it, even, since there was no doubt that Harry was finding the touching pleasurable. His breath quickened until he was panting lightly, which of course added to Severus' torment. 

He didn't shift his hips restlessly, though, which told Severus that Harry's arousal was in no way as raging as his own. 

Wanting to change that, Severus allowed his hands to stray downwards, tracing Harry's ribs and then his taut, flat belly, his fingers stealing beneath the waistband of Harry's jeans. 

And then, Harry froze completely and yanked himself sideways, off Severus' lap. "I can't. Don't . . . no. Don't touch me there." 

_Too soon_. Severus forced himself to nod, forced his voice to betray nothing but calm acceptance. "Very well. It's good we learn how far you can comfortably venture." 

Harry looked perturbed. "Not very far," he muttered. "I don't know why it should bother me to have you touch me there. I mean, it's not like what _they_ did. But all of it was, um . . . I mean, I liked how it felt when you were touching my chest, but I still had to kind of force myself to let you. Part of me doesn't want any of this to be happening, I guess. You know?" 

"I do understand," said Severus slowly. "But as you said before, what is, _is_." 

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, his lips turning down. "Yeah, well what _is_ had better get better fast. We don't have all the time in the world." 

"No, but we have enough." At Harry's glance, Severus continued. "It will be enough because it must be, Harry. Now, shall we continue or would you rather call a halt for tonight?" 

"Let's stop for now." Harry's throat convulsed as he swallowed. He looked like he wanted to apologise again, but had thought better of it. 

_Good_ , Severus thought. "If you'll excuse me then, I think I'd like a shower." And then, as he did every morning, he turned toward Harry. "You're quite welcome to join me." 

And Harry, as he did every morning, shook his head. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, July 4, 1998 ---- 10:14 a.m.**

Harry was grinning when he plopped himself down onto a couch in the Ravenclaw common room. One advantage, he'd found, of spending the summer in the castle was that he was able to explore areas that had always been off-limits to him before. Of course, without the Marauder's Map he'd never have known exactly where the entrance to Ravenclaw was. Fortunately, Severus had agreed to let him use it for his wanderings. 

He'd merely requested, with a wry look in Harry's direction, that no pranks or tricks be left lying about in Slytherin. 

_Rats,_ Harry had said. 

_Or anywhere else,_ Severus had added. 

To which Harry had replied that he couldn't think of any recipient more worthy than Slytherin House. 

Relaxing, Harry stretched out full length on the couch, and let the map fall from his hand to the floor as he studied the mural painted on the ceiling. Famous wizards in history, as far as he could tell. He didn't recognise most of them, though he thought they were probably intellectual giants or something. Lurking about the edges of the painting were some Muggle figures that would fit that theme, anyway. A couple of ancient Greeks, and Einstein, and Shakespeare, and a man Harry thought might be Galileo. Hmm, maybe they'd all been wizards? Harry really didn't know. 

His thoughts turned from the painting to how the past few days had gone. Just like he'd written to Hermione, living with Severus was honestly turning out pretty well. The other man was about as reasonable as Harry could want. He didn't try to boss Harry around at all, and didn't make a big deal out of the fact that he owned Harry. He did keep inviting Harry into the shower with him every single morning, but took Harry's daily refusal with pretty good grace, all things considered. 

It wasn't lost on Harry that Severus literally had a right to expect more from him in the bedroom. 

But the other man seemed to understand how hard it was for Harry to get back into things. 

Not that Harry wasn't trying his best. Every night now, he spent some time with Severus, the two of them kissing and touching. Harry even got aroused a little. But then, every night without fail, he'd run straight into a brick wall. Head first, it was beginning to feel like. He just couldn't seem to get past a certain point, couldn't really let go and throw himself into it wholeheartedly. 

Worse, the minute Severus tried to touch him below the waist, he froze. His erection, already feeble, would disappear completely. He'd find himself stammering out apologies, though really, Severus had been very clear about Harry having nothing to be sorry for. 

But Harry _was_ sorry. And ashamed. He couldn't even really get hard these days, and what sort of teenaged boy couldn't even manage that? It was as if his body had forgotten something it used to know. Something important. 

He wanted to get past all this. He remembered what sex with Severus had been like, in those last few days before term ended. Once Harry had gotten past his nervousness and reluctance, it had all been really good. _Really_ good. Harry could remember that, but the memory seemed hazy and faded to him, now. Like things could never be that way again. Like it was hopeless. 

Harry sighed. Things did seem hopeless, yeah. Maybe he'd feel better about everything if he hadn't been such a coward back in May and early June. He'd agreed to fingers up his arse, but no more. Maybe what had happened in London wouldn't have been so horrible if only he'd had a little more experience. 

_No, it would have been completely horrible regardless,_ Harry told himself. And then he gave himself a pep talk for the twentieth time, since nothing else he'd been doing was working. _It won't be horrible with Severus. Those other men were trying to hurt me, but Severus doesn't want to. And he knows how to be careful. And he thinks it's hot when I'm excited too--_

But that, of course, only led right back to the depressing fact that Harry couldn't get very excited these days. Not even in Paris. The city had been wonderful. Glamorous. Exotic even, at least to Harry. Severus seemed to take it all in stride, and find Harry's reaction a little bit amusing. 

It should have been enough to distract him from his troubles. Disguised as Muggles, the both of them blending in, he _had_ felt safe enough, just like in Norway. Unlike in Norway, though, Severus had pulled Harry aside a few times during the day to kiss him thoroughly. Once on a boat sailing up the Seine, the two of them hanging back while the other tourists rushed to disembark. Once in a deserted alcove around the back of the Madeleine. And once, late at night in corner of a dark café. 

Each time, they'd been alone, or as good as. Harry hadn't been worried about people seeing two men kissing. But still, not even in a place like Paris could he seem to get past the brick wall that stood before him. It was just _there._ Solid. Immovable. 

So yeah, Harry did feel hopeless. Severus kept saying that they still had plenty of time, but every day that passed meant one less day until the thirty-first. 

Harry couldn't help but feel scared. 

He couldn't think of what to do except try harder. 

The trouble was, he was trying the hardest he possibly could, and it wasn't making any difference at all. He still couldn't stand to be touched down there. 

Sighing, Harry sat up and fetched the map from the floor. 

As he left Ravenclaw, he wasn't grinning any longer. 

  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, July 7, 1998 ---- 8:22 p.m.**

Harry, Severus thought, was putting himself under far too much pressure. Understandable, considering the deadline imposed by the prophecy, but counter-productive, all the same. 

If he could just get the young man to relax, then their evenings would go much better. Severus was certain of it. 

He'd thought that getting out of Hogwarts would help. But their evenings seemed to go the same, no matter if they'd spent the day in Paris or Venice. Harry had enjoyed the trips abroad, that much was obvious. He'd even researched the cities in advance so that he could say what he'd like to see in each. He wanted to go to Rome next. 

Yes, Harry made for an amiable travel companion, and hadn't once resisted Severus kissing him, either abroad or at home. 

But kisses and light caresses were one thing. The moment their touching became more overtly sexual, Harry would say _no_. Or jerk away. Or worst of all, begin to apologise, as if it were his own fault he found lovemaking so daunting these days. More than once at such times, Severus had wished Bole and Talmadge were still alive so he could make them suffer all over again. 

He kept telling Harry to stop worrying about the end of the month, but the young man wasn't listening to him. 

He heard the front door open and put down the journal he'd been reading; he'd hardly registered a single idea in the last two pages, anyway. He found it hard to focus on scholarly texts these days. All his thoughts were centred on how to help Harry. 

Not that Severus had come up with any further ideas. 

"I thought you were bringing back a sweet," said Severus as Harry sat down next to him. "Did you eat it in the kitchens?" 

"Couldn't find Dobby." 

"There are other elves working here." Severus began to massage the back of Harry's neck, liking the way the young man stretched his head to the side to allow him better access. "For that matter, I didn't understand why you wanted to fetch your dessert personally, when all you have to do is tap the table." 

"Maybe I fancied a walk." 

Severus shook his head as he worked the tension out of Harry's taut muscles. "I think all you do these days is walk, Harry. You must have explored every inch of Hogwarts by now." 

"Yeah, no secrets left. Did you know the Hufflepuffs actually have a badger living in their common room? I'm assuming it wasn't an Animagus--" 

"It's named Helga," said Severus dryly. "Not the most creative of houses, the Hufflepuffs." 

Harry fished in his pocket and drew out a folded wad of parchment. The map. "I don't think I need that now. Well, unless I needed to study the dots. But the layout? I do know every inch. I even have a pretty good sense of how the staircases change around." He paused for a moment. "I thought I'd start going outside, down to the pitch, instead of just flying around the turrets." 

Harry was beginning to feel more confident, then. It was good to see progress in that area, at least, Severus thought. 

"And I wanted to ask you," continued Harry. "Would you let me use Polyjuice on my own, now? I'd like to explore the countryside too, I think. If anyone sees me I don't want them to realise who I am." 

_Anyone_ , Severus felt sure, meant Death Eaters. Although knowing Harry's feelings about his celebrity status, it might also include admirers. 

Severus was startled to find himself all at once thinking about how he didn't want Harry being admired by anyone besides himself."You never needed a reminder to take another sip of potion when we were in France or Italy," he said. Realising his hands had begun to gently stroke Harry's jaw line, he abruptly pulled them away. "I'm certain you can manage Polyjuice on your own, yes." 

Harry's eyes started to gleam. "Oh, good--" 

Severus held up a cautioning hand. "However, I would ask that you avoid the village. Strangers in a place like Hogsmeade tend to attract attention. You understand the drawbacks of that, I think." 

"God, yes. I've had enough attention to last me forever," muttered Harry, his eyes narrowing. "What? You look like there's more." 

"Only that I'd like to be informed when I can expect you back. Just as you've been doing." 

Harry nodded. "So, um . . . did you want a sweet, or tea, or coffee or something? No? All right, then I guess we should try again tonight. Though I'm starting to think there isn't very much point, Severus." 

"You need to stop expecting an instant cure." Standing, Severus shrugged off his lightweight robe and began undoing his buttons. 

"I should really do that," said Harry. 

Severus didn't know if he was referring to his slave status or if Harry had more intimacy in mind, but he wasn't disposed to argue, either way. Any sort of progress was worthwhile, in his view. 

Harry's hands fumbled a little as he worked his way down the long row of tiny buttons. "Do you think you could simplify your wardrobe a bit?" he finally asked in exasperation. 

If it would get Harry more interested in disrobing him, Severus would wear whatever the young man directed. Within reason, of course. "I believe you're capable of selecting shirts for me, if you're so inclined. Keep my colour preferences in mind, please." 

"And just when am I supposed to go shopping?" 

Severus moved his arms so it was easier for Harry to peel the shirt off him. "Are you suggesting that you did no _shopping_ on our trips?" he asked, liking the sardonic sound of the question. "The miniature Venice occupying the table in my upstairs quarters would tend to contradict that claim, you know." 

"The little gondolier can actually speak Italian," said Harry, smiling. "Though I don't know what he's saying as he pushes his way up and down the canals." 

"Mostly, he's been complaining about the English weather." 

Harry's jaw dropped. "He knows he's in England? Oh, no. You don't suppose he's actually some poor wizard somebody cursed, do you?" 

"It's a harmless spell," Severus assured him, though he thought that concerns like that should have _preceded_ the ghastly purchase. Harry liked the worst sort of souvenirs, he'd discovered. Cheap touristy rubbish. Really, there was no other way to describe the objects Harry purchased. He even liked those awful Muggle keepsakes made in Taiwan. The _plastic_ ones. 

Severus didn't say anything when the young man bought such trash, though. He wanted Harry to enjoy their time abroad. 

"I meant shopping alone, anyway," said Harry. "Not that I want to go anywhere alone, except maybe into the hills. But I can't ask Albus to come along so I can buy you shirts! But I guess I could buy them with you there." 

That would suit Severus, since he could subtly steer Harry away from the horrendous garments he might choose if left to his own devices. 

"I guess we'll look for a tailor in Rome," said Harry, nodding. Then, proving he wasn't completely oblivious to Severus' thoughts, he added, "You have to promise to translate exactly what I say, though. No fair only telling them what _you_ want. We'll just end up with the same stuff with millions of buttons." 

Forty-two was hardly a million, but instead of saying so, Severus twisted around on the sofa so that he could unbutton Harry's shirt. It only had nine buttons. Severus preferred to see Harry in shirts with none. Soft cotton pullover shirts that clung to the hard contours of his chest. Shirts that could be removed with only a moment's work. 

So perhaps he understood Harry's frustration with the number of buttons Severus preferred to wear. 

Once they were both bare-chested, Harry made no move towards him. A bit odd, that. The young man wasn't shy with him these days. Not even when they woke up curled around each other in the centre of the bed, Severus' hard cock straining to find release. 

Harry would always stiffen, but he didn't seem embarrassed. It was just a reflex. And lately, he hadn't been jerking himself away. He would lie quiet in Severus' embrace, saying nothing. Obviously, his plan was to get used to feeling Severus' erection pressed against him. 

But clearly, he didn't enjoy feeling it. 

"Um . . . you know how we're not getting anywhere?" Harry asked. "I thought maybe a change of scenery would help." 

Severus' thoughts leapt immediately to the bedroom. And then right after that, they leapt to Paris and Venice, two changes of scenery that had been of no use whatsoever. "Yes?" 

Harry frowned. "Scenery's not the right word. I meant mood. It's just . . ." He cleared his throat. "Every time we go to a wizarding restaurant, there's dancing." 

_Ah._ No coincidence, that. After seeing how Harry had stared at the men on the dance floor in Bergen, Severus had made sure to find similar restaurants on all their trips abroad. He'd made it a higher priority than locating bilingual menus. After all, he could always translate aloud for Harry. He rather enjoyed that, actually. 

"And you always ask me to dance," Harry went on. "And I always refuse. It's too public. And I didn't want to dance with you anyway, because I basically don't know how. But I thought it might be good if you taught me, see? And that might help all the rest." 

Severus automatically reached down for the shirt Harry had dropped to the floor, but Harry's fingers on his hand stopped him. "You really must think I'm scatter-brained. You think I took off your shirt so you could put it right back on?" 

_Oh._ Harry meant for them to dance as they were. Severus felt his palms go slightly damp at the thought. He'd never danced that way before, not once. Mixed in with his excitement was surprise that a young man as inexperienced as Harry had come up with such an . . . invigorating idea. 

Harry stood up and tugged on the hand he was still holding. "You conjure the music," he said. "I went to the library and found the spell you use, but my instruments wouldn't ever play." 

"It requires some knowledge of composers and scores," murmured Severus as he walked over to the clear part of the room, Harry at his side. "What sort of music were you thinking of?" 

"Book didn't mention that part." 

Severus' voice went dry. "Hence the reason you were provided instructors as well as books here at Hogwarts." He flicked his wand toward the corner to conjure a few instruments playing slow, soft jazz, then tucked his wand away again. 

By then they were standing face to face just a few inches apart. Harry listened to the music for a moment before he spoke. "Um . . . so how do we start?" 

"I'm assuming you don't actually care to learn any formal dances." Just as well, really. Severus wasn't sure he could recall the steps well enough to teach them. A shirtless Harry was far too distracting. 

"Just casual slow dancing like we saw, yeah." Harry reached up and put his hands around Severus' neck. "Like this?" 

"Yes. It's not difficult. Really, all you have to do is sway on your feet and follow your partner's lead." 

Harry's nostrils flared as he made a noise that sounded like mild irritation. "Figures you'd lead. What am I, the woman?" 

Severus didn't like the question, but he supposed he did like the fact that Harry could voice it. Not so long ago, the young man hadn't been aware of his own feelings about the odd role _Cambiare Podentes_ had thrust upon him. "You're shorter, that's all," said Severus. "I don't know about Muggles, but in wizarding circles it's the taller wizard usually leads." 

"Oh." The young man made a gulping noise, then. "Sorry. I mean, I just thought--" 

Placing a finger beneath Harry's chin, Severus looked down into his eyes. "I wouldn't want you if you were a woman, Harry. You don't need to worry that I'll treat you as one." 

"You don't even really treat me as a slave," murmured Harry. 

"It's as I said before we invoked. The spell is for lovers. The slavery is necessary, but incidental. Now, shall we?" Severus wrapped his bare arms around Harry, his palms settling beneath the young man's shoulder blades, and pulled him forward a few inches. "Hmm. Speaking of height, I think you've grown since term ended." 

Harry looked left and right like he was trying to gauge his own height. "Really? But it hasn't been that long. How could I have grown enough to notice?" 

"You're certainly eating enough to fuel a growth spurt." 

Harry stopped looking around and smiled. For once, he looked entirely relaxed. "I can't tell you how great it is to know I'll always have plenty to eat, all I want. Summers before were always so hard to get through. I think I'd have starved to death if not for my friends owling me things." When Severus began swaying to the soft music, Harry followed him, seemingly without even noticing. "Say, do you think I'll keep growing for a good while longer?" 

"You might. It's common for wizards to continue gaining height until the age of twenty-one. Sometimes beyond." He turned them slightly so they wouldn't bump into the Floo, and continued moving in time with Harry. Once more, the young man had no trouble matching Severus' steps. Severus actually wondered why he'd thought he couldn't dance. 

"And then there's always a potion, I suppose." 

"You don't want those," said Severus. "Not with Quidditch in your teaching schedule. Height potions tend to make for brittle bones." Not to mention sexual dysfunction, Severus thought. 

"Oh. Well, I'll just have to hope I end up topping you the natural way, then." 

Severus felt the room grow warm. No doubt Harry had no idea that what he'd just said could be taken for witty repartee. The urge to banter back gripped Severus with a strength that was surprising. What he wouldn't give to be able to tease the young man back. _Oh, I'd much prefer to be the one topping you, Harry_ \-- 

But Harry, of course, hadn't been teasing. 

"There's no telling how tall you may grow," Severus said in a carefully solemn voice, though privately he thought it unlikely that Harry would ever tower over him. Good nutrition now could only go so far in erasing the damage the young man's relatives had wrought. 

Pulling Harry into a closer embrace, Severus turned them again, a little more widely than before. That time, Harry trod on his foot briefly, but he soon fell back into step. They danced for a while, swaying and turning, only the occasional misstep disrupting them from moving in tandem. 

Harry fit perfectly into his arms, Severus thought, pulling him closer yet again, until they were skin against skin. 

Severus' cock had been making its presence known ever since bare-chested dancing had been suggested. Now, it surged to its full length. Holding Harry like this was so close to making love that he could scarcely bear the tension. And yet, if this was all he could have, Severus thought, he'd take it whether it drove him mad or not. 

Harry felt his erection; no doubt of that. He stiffened, the motion a familiar one to Severus by now. He kept dancing though, his face blank of any reaction. 

Harry wasn't becoming aroused; that much was obvious. 

One more turn around the room, Harry's warm heartbeat pressing into him. Calm, steady, that thud against his skin. Not panicked, but not excited either. 

Finally, it was too much for Severus to bear. He stepped back, shaking his head. "I think it's time I went for a shower," he said, a little annoyed to hear his own voice emerging somewhat shakily. 

"No, no," said Harry. When Severus stepped further away the young man actually grabbed his forearms. "I didn't mean for the dancing to be instead of the kissing. I guess it's time for that, then." 

Severus was fairly certain he would explode if he kissed Harry now. The feeling only got worse when the young man kept speaking. 

"And . . . and, I've been thinking a lot about how to move forward, you know? I thought maybe we should try the bedroom. Um, the bed. All right?" 

Severus felt his throat go dry. He knew he was being absurd. Without a doubt, Harry wasn't ready for Severus to make love to him. He knew that. But still, the idea of kissing on the bed made his cock actually jump with excitement. Harry couldn't feel that, as they were no longer pressed together. Doubtless he couldn't see it, either. 

He knew, though. Perhaps because he knew Severus by now. 

The young man blanched, ever so slightly. But like the brave Gryffindor he was, he threw his shoulders back with determination. "Let's go, then," he said. 

Severus didn't like feeling as though he was a challenge Harry was determined to overcome. But Harry couldn't feel any other way at the moment, could he? Not after what he'd gone through recently. 

Severus left the jazz sextet playing as he led the way to his bedroom. Once there, it was a simple matter to spell the room with soft candlelight. 

It was actually strange how excited he felt, Severus thought. They slept side by side in this bed every night, and woke up every morning in each other's arms. The prospect of kissing and caressing here again, though, was so arousing it was actually painful. 

Pity Harry didn't feel the same. 

For all that, though, neither was the young man embarrassed or shy. Just a little uncertain as he lay down on his side and stroked the coverlet in front of him as though beckoning Severus there. "We always wake up sort of spooned," he said. "But for this, I thought face to face would be better." 

So perhaps Harry was a little nervous, saying something so very obvious. Severus didn't remark on it, and not just because he had no wish to put the young man even more ill-at-ease. He also didn't think he could speak in anything approaching a normal tone. 

Severus lay down where Harry had indicated and leaned forward until he was close enough to touch his mouth to Harry's. A careful kiss, at first. Severus wanted Harry so much that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to restrain himself from doing more than kissing. A great deal more. 

If only he could reach down and feel that firm, young cock in his hand, feel Harry shuddering with pleasure under his touch, the way he had before . . . 

Severus clenched his hands to keep himself from following thought with action. He couldn't seem to stop his lips from becoming more insistent, however. His mouth opened on Harry's, his tongue hungry with need, a low moan coursing up from his gut as his cock demanded pleasure, demanded release. 

Harry kissed him back, though without the same kind of answering passion. The young man's breathing wasn't steady, though. That was something. Harry was probably in that half-aroused state he'd more than once described to Severus. 

And this time, Severus was going to get him past it. 

His arms went around Harry to caress his lower back, though he made no move to dive his fingers beneath the waistband of Harry's trousers. No, too many times that had made Harry pull away. 

Deeper kisses, Severus pulling Harry so close they seemed to breathe as one. His long, hard cock, restrained by fabric, was pressed tightly up against Harry's thighs. There was no way the young man could fail to note it, but Harry just kept kissing him as if he hadn't. 

Groaning with pleasure, Severus shifted restlessly, needing more. 

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to throw one leg over both of Harry's, the better to angle his cock so that he could get some friction on it. 

Before Severus even got one good thrust forward, however, Harry yanked himself violently backwards, his breathing harsh and ragged. "Don't do that," he gasped, the words sounding as though they were being pulled through sharp knives before they emerged. "D- don't. Just _don't._ " 

Severus lay perfectly still as he slowly nodded. "Thrust against you." 

Harry made a strangled noise. "Yeah, well that wasn't great, but I meant . . ." He swallowed. "Don't hold me down." 

Severus reached out a hand, intending to stroke Harry's tense shoulder, but drew it back without touching the young man. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said. Apologies didn't come readily to his lips, but that one seemed to say itself. It wasn't often he felt quite so out of his depth. Throwing a leg over Harry had just felt natural at the moment he'd done so, but now it seemed rank stupidity. 

Harry nodded, the motion a little bit jerky. "It's all right. It's me, really. I should be getting over it, but we get too close and I just . . . seem to go back to . . . never mind." 

Severus did touch him then, stroking his fingertips down Harry's arm. "You shouldn't expect yourself to get over it in such a short time." 

"My life's fucked up though," said Harry, shrugging. "Always has been." He paused, and then glanced away, before looking back into Severus' eyes, his whole body tensing. "Um . . . there's no reason why yours should be, though. I mean, I know you were expecting more than you've been getting, sex-wise. And I'm supposed to be providing, but I just can't. But I could . . ." Harry seemed to brace himself then, just as he'd done when he'd invited Severus to kiss in bed. Forcing himself, again. "If you really wanted I could, uh, give you a hand job? If you like?" 

His tone made it clear that the liking would be entirely one-sided. 

Severus' cock still ached, though he wasn't as hard now as he'd been the moment before. Perhaps that was what enabled him to say what needed to be said. "If you like, Harry. You don't . . . _owe_ me that, if that's what you're thinking." 

"But I'm supposed to please you--" 

So he'd been right, Severus thought. The offer _had_ been along the lines of a pity-fuck. Severus didn't know whether to be offended or appreciative. In either case, though, he was too proud to accept the offer. He wanted Harry to want him. He wanted things the way they'd been before. 

Yes, the way they'd been before. Harry'd given him a lovely hand-job once. The young man had panted and moaned, clearly wanting him though he hadn't quite known what to do with all that desire. And then in the ritual bath, the way Harry had described Severus' cock . . . the way he so clearly loved looking at it and touching it . . . 

Severus wanted _that_ again, not this reluctant offer of quick release with no pleasure in it for Harry. 

"You're putting yourself under too much pressure," he said in as level a voice as he could manage. "Over me now, as well as yourself. And as kissing every night hasn't seemed to help, perhaps we should take a break for a few days, Harry, before we try again." 

Severus levered himself up from the bed. Part of him actually hoped that Harry would call him back. 

_But I want to please you_, the young man would say. _I'm just nervous, Severus, and the words are coming out all wrong. I like touching you. I want to do it again . . ._

But Harry didn't say any of that, of course. All he did was look away this time when Severus went off to take yet another lonely shower. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, July 7, 1998 ---- 10:03 p.m.**

Severus leaned back against the tiles, his hand falling to his side as his orgasm ebbed away. Rather unsatisfying, that orgasm. Like most of his lately. 

Like drinking a three-Galleon bottle of wine when what he truly wanted was a fine French vintage. 

He didn't want to be alone in the shower, climaxing onto cold stone. He wanted to be settled against the hard warmth of Harry's body, wanted the two of them coming together. 

He wanted Harry's hand on him, instead of his own. 

Sighing, Severus reached for the elf-made shampoo and lathered it through his hair. Usually he avoided this particular shampoo but this evening, he thought the calming effects were probably what he needed. When he thought of how he'd actually turned Harry down out there, he wanted to bang his forehead into the wall. 

How Slytherin was that, eh? He _owned_ Harry! He had a perfect right to take what was on offer. It wasn't as though Severus had _asked_ for a hand job, was it? He hadn't even hinted. 

So why had he turned it down, then? So Harry wasn't excited at the idea any longer. Most of the men Severus had ever paid to provide him pleasure were simulating their own. He knew that, even if it never came up as a topic of conversation. So why should Harry be any different? 

_Because he is_ , Severus reluctantly acknowledged. Severus wanted a lover, not a stranger rented for a night at a time. Once, he'd thought that all he would ever have was men making love to him out of obligation. Harry was supposed to be different. 

Harry _would_ be different, Severus vowed. He knew he could make Harry want him. The men and boys he'd paid to make love with him had always simulated passion, or taken potions to ensure it. With Harry, though, everything was real. 

_Cambiare Podentes_ or no. 

But now, Harry was cold and reluctant. How satisfying could that be, really? When Severus wanted a lover? When he wanted that lover to be Harry. 

And so, he knew he'd made the right decision in the bedroom. Accepting that offer wouldn't have been very good for Harry, would it? The last thing the young man needed was more stress, particularly now. 

Besides, pressuring Harry, or allowing him to pressure himself, could only be detrimental. All personal concern aside, Harry had to become whole and well again in order for them to cross powers. 

Severus groaned slightly, because personal concerns in fact could not be pushed entirely aside. Harry was going to be his for a lifetime. 

_If_ , that was, Harry survived his birthday to live that lifetime out. 

But he had to survive. Because otherwise, the Dark Lord's star would rise ascendant. The world would enter an era of darkness such as it had never known. 

And Severus would be alone, just as he'd always assumed. 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, July 12, 1998 ---- 2:13 p.m.**

Harry waited until he'd climbed to the top of the hill before he shrugged off his knapsack and sat down. From here, he could see the Black Lake below, and beyond that, hints of the smaller lakes that dotted the Scottish countryside. A good place to eat the lunch he'd picked up from the kitchens on his way out. Good thing he always waited until he was outside to take his first swig of Polyjuice. Dobby wouldn't have recognised him. 

Or maybe he would have. Harry never had been very clear on house-elf powers. Actually, there were a lot of things he felt like he really didn't know enough about, for someone who was supposed to help teach Defence. Good thing he was only going to be a teaching assistant, but what if they got another professor like Lockhart or Umbridge? 

Though Harry had to admit, some of the applications hadn't looked too bad. Albus had arranged for some interviews the next week, and had invited Harry to sit in on them. So hopefully they'd get someone who really was an expert in the field. 

Harry bit into his chicken sandwich and leaned back on one hand, his thoughts starting to turn in a more depressing direction. Because if he didn't find a way to get past his . . . problem, then it wouldn't matter who taught Defence, would it? It certainly wouldn't matter to Harry. He'd be dead. 

And it wouldn't matter to the students either, or at least, not for long. Harry's death would mean the final defeat of the forces of good, after all. The prophecy had said so. And just how long would Hogwarts stay open, once darkness began its ten thousand year rule? 

Oh, God. His friends would probably be the first to die, and judging from the way Vol . . . the Dark Lord had _played_ with him in that graveyard, he'd want to make them suffer first. He liked that. Suffering. Hermione would have it the worst, Muggle-born that she was. Or maybe Ron. Was a pure-blood "traitor" worse than a Muggle-born, in his evil eyes? 

Or was the worst kind of traitor one like Severus, who'd killed loyal Death Eaters in defence of Harry? The Dark Lord might not know about that, of course, but he'd certainly know that Severus had started skipping meetings. Severus would end up tortured to death. 

And all the Order members would, too. They'd stood by him through thick and thin. _They'd_ believed him about what had happened in that graveyard, when the whole wizarding world had preferred to stick its head in the sand and call Harry mental. 

And they were going to die, one and all, because of him, if he didn't find a way to do what had to be done. 

So. No two ways about it. He had to get past this . . . reluctance. He had to stop being such a coward, had to stop freezing up, time after time. Whatever it took, he had to find a way. 

The trouble was, there just wasn't going to be one. Harry knew that by now. He'd tried his very best, night after night. He hadn't wanted to freeze, or jerk away, or call a halt. Well, he'd _wanted_ to, obviously, but the whole time he'd just wanted to kick himself for wanting that. He should be past this! Sure, he hadn't had much time to get over it, but he didn't _have_ much time. Simple as that. 

He didn't even have twenty days left. And it wasn't enough. Harry could tell. 

So what was left, then? 

Harry took another swig of Polyjuice. Awful taste. He washed it away with pumpkin juice, then kept eating his sandwich. Really, if not for the one thing then his life would actually be all right, even despite him being a slave. It wasn't just that he had plenty to eat. It was . . . well, everything. He was getting along well with Severus. Actually, the other man was turning out to be pretty good company. Living with him was nothing like what Harry had expected back when he'd first understood the prophecy. 

Of course Severus was still insulting and sarcastic, but comments like that no longer stung as they once had. In fact, Harry found them pretty funny these days. Maybe because he knew that Severus didn't really hold him in contempt. He couldn't. They talked every night over dinner and every morning over breakfast, their conversations generally friendly and interesting. On both sides. Harry was sure of it. Sometimes they even talked in bed, late into the night. Severus liked to talk about the problems he was having developing his latest potion. 

Which actually made Harry snicker, it was so ridiculous. Did Severus think that _Harry_ was going to be able to give him some startling new insight, or tell him what he'd been doing wrong? But no, of course Severus didn't think that. He'd told Harry that just talking a brewing problem through out loud could help him figure it out himself. Which it did. Eventually. Although sometimes Harry fell asleep while Severus was still talking it through. 

And then there were the days. Harry had been going out hiking quite a lot lately, venturing farther from the castle every time. He'd yet to see anybody at all on any of his hikes, but it wouldn't worry him if he did. Polyjuice wouldn't fail the way a glamour could. Harry smiled a little ruefully. Not Severus' Polyjuice, at any rate. 

Severus was protecting him even when Harry was off on his own. It was an odd feeling, really. Harry wasn't used to having anyone looking after him. 

_Strange how things had turned out,_ Harry suddenly thought, his gaze scanning the miles and miles of countryside he could see from the high peak he'd climbed. He felt . . . all right, he realised. Of course, he knew he was a slave. But somehow, that didn't matter so much. It didn't bother him, now. Because the way it had all worked out, being a slave had ended up making him happier than he'd ever been before. 

He'd never had a home before, for one. Not a real one, not one that was going to last into the summer and beyond. Now he did, and it was even the very place he would have chosen if he'd had a choice. _Hogwarts._

He wouldn't have picked the dungeons exactly, but Severus had known that, so he'd extended his quarters upstairs. For Harry. 

He'd never had time for himself like this, either. Time to explore not just the castle and the countryside beyond, but to explore his own interests, as well. He'd found a book on drawing spells in the library, and was spending his mornings now learning to animate his sketches. So far he hadn't got one to work quite the way he wanted, but he was getting there. He really liked playing around with his drawings, he'd found. Severus had looked over his shoulders and said that Albus' hands didn't look right. He'd recommended Harry get himself a Muggle book on drawing techniques the next time they were near a bookstore. 

Ready access to money, the ability to buy anything he fancied . . . that was another thing that was helping Harry feel at ease in his new life. He'd never had that before, either. Everything he bought during the school year had to be weighed against the knowledge that he'd have to find a way to hide the purchase from the Dursleys, come summer. As well, he hadn't even known how much was in the vault. He hadn't known to ask for an accounting. He'd always been a little bit worried he might run out of funds and find himself unable to pay for an apprenticeship. 

_Somebody might at least have explained that I was earning interest_ , Harry thought. 

Severus was willing to explain things like that to him, though. Not that Harry was technically the one earning any interest, but still. Harry's friends often hadn't known any more than he had about how the adult wizarding world worked, and the headmaster's cryptic explanations usually caused more confusion than they resolved. But now Harry had somebody he could ask. Finally. 

It was a good feeling. 

So here he was, enslaved for life, but only now was he beginning to feel free. 

_That was it_ , he suddenly thought. _I do feel free with Severus. And safe, as well. And that's not just because I know he won't let anybody hurt me. It's also that he'll let me be me. He lets me do as I please, as much as he can._

And time, that's what Severus was giving him now. He'd said that Harry was under too much pressure and they should take a break, and he'd been as good as his word. 

But time . . . no, that wasn't what Harry needed at all. 

He needed to just get past the brick wall he kept banging up against. He needed to find a way to knock that wall down. 

Harry suddenly started shuddering, imagining what lay on the other side of that wall. Images that he usually repressed began to rise to the forefront of his mind. 

Being pinned down on that bed, hearing Bole and Talmadge grunting as each took a turn. The blinding, searing pain . . . 

_No, no. It won't be like that, not with Severus. He won't treat me that way. It won't be like that at all._

But some part of his mind didn't really believe that. 

Harry tried to imagine how it might be with Severus, then. The weight and feel of Severus on top of him when they'd done frottage. The thrusting, their cocks sliding slick and hard against one another. But the memory only made him panic even more. He felt his heart rate speed up, his palms growing damp and clammy. 

_I've got to do this. I have to. I have to get past this, all of it,_ Harry thought, desperation making his throat feel tight. The trouble was, he couldn't imagine how he possibly could. How it would all work. How he could force himself to let Severus . . . 

Force, that was it. _Compulsio._ The compulsion charm. Harry suddenly remembered how it had felt the one time Severus had used the charm on him. That sensation of needing to do whatever Severus said. Of making himself obey . . . 

How would it be, if Severus used the charm to help Harry knock down that brick wall? Harry shuddered, trying to envision it. _No_. No. He couldn't. It was awful. Horrible. He felt like he ought to go have a long bath and just scrub himself, the idea was so nasty. 

What did that matter, though? He might have to ask for just that. The thought of Severus on top of him, thrusting inside, _having_ him . . . the whole thing made him suddenly queasy. But the thought of dying was even worse. If it was just himself, maybe. But all his friends would die, too. The Order. Albus. _Severus._

Suddenly, Harry couldn't sit still any longer. He had to return to the castle. To safety. Standing, Harry dusted his hands off on his jeans. 

Yes, _Compulsio._ It was the only solution, the only thing left. There wasn't going to be any other way through that wall. 

Harry set off at a brisk pace toward the castle. _Compulsio_ , yes. He'd talk about it with Severus. Tonight. 

  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, July 12, 1998 ---- 6:04 p.m.**

Harry knew what he needed to do, but he wasn't sure quite how to go about it. How would Severus react to the idea of using _Compulsio_ on him? On the one hand, it seemed like they didn't have any choice in the matter. Severus was about as intelligent as they came, so he'd have to see that, right? 

On the other hand, though, Harry knew how Severus felt about lovemaking. He didn't want to use force. He _wouldn't_ want to use force. And the spell was a kind of force, wasn't it? Even if Harry had never experienced _Compulsio_ firsthand, the name alone would have told him that much. 

Compulsion. 

Severus wouldn't want to compel Harry to have sex. He wanted Harry to want it. Wanted him to enjoy it, even. No matter that it was impossible. That was why they were in a bind already, wasn't it? Harry kept trying to do as Severus wanted, kept trying to get past that brick wall on his own, and it just couldn't be done. 

Harry was sighing as he pushed open the door to Severus' upstairs rooms. He wasn't looking forward to the conversation looming ahead. He and Severus were probably going to have an argument. 

And wasn't _that_ ironic? Harry asking Severus to force him, and Severus refusing. The exact opposite of what Harry had expected when he'd first realised just what _Cambiare Podentes_ was going to require from him. He'd been terrified for weeks that he'd end up being forced, but he'd come to understand, finally, that for all his foul temper and scathing tongue, Severus Snape was a decent person. 

He'd never agree to a thing like this. A force spell? In bed? 

But now, Harry was going to have to demand exactly that. 

Not for the first time, Harry wished he hadn't stayed on in London like that. It wouldn't have killed him to put up with his hateful relatives for a couple more days. He'd dealt with them for years! 

What would his life be like now if he'd just gone on to Surrey as Severus had intended? He'd learned by then that sex with Severus was going to be about pleasure, not pain and humiliation. They'd have been able to resume where they'd left off. By now, he probably wouldn't have to be worrying about getting killed on his birthday. Everything would be fine. 

As he passed through the magic doorway to enter the dungeons, Harry still didn't know quite how he was going to approach Severus about using _Compulsio._ What on earth could he say? Maybe he should wait until after dinner. Ply Severus with some wine, first. 

Or better yet, try some dancing and kissing beforehand. Enough to get Severus hot and bothered. _Really_ hot and bothered. And then, just when the other man said he thought he'd better go have a shower, Harry would tell him that one wasn't necessary, because Harry had figured out a way past his problem. 

Severus would probably still argue and refuse, but if he was desperate enough, just moments away from coming, maybe Harry could persuade him that _Compulsio_ was the only way. 

So that was it, Harry decided, imagining the evening ahead. Harry would seduce Severus into agreeing. 

He grimaced again, once more struck by that sense that the world kept turning upside down. All along it had been Severus trying to get Harry to agree to sex. Severus lighting candles, and massaging him, and looking at him with those dark eyes that wanted only one thing. 

And now the tables were turned and Harry was going to have to do the seducing. Well, at least he had a good idea of how to go about it. After all their practice for the invocation, and then the ritual bath, Harry knew quite a bit about what Severus liked in bed. 

All Harry's plans went straight out the window, however, when he walked into the sitting room and saw a visitor pacing back and forth. 

"Mr Weasley," he said weakly, hardly able to believe it. Didn't anything ever go right for him? Here he was steeling himself to go ask for the practically unthinkable, and he had to put it off! The man had said he'd come visit and see how Harry was doing. The fact that he'd kept his word was something Harry could appreciate, but his timing could not have been worse. 

Then again, maybe no time would ever be good for a visit like this, actually. Harry was suddenly, overwhelmingly conscious of several facts all at once. Things he didn't think about much any longer, but now they all came back to him in a rush. 

He was a slave. A sex slave. And not only that, he'd behaved like a complete . . . Harry didn't even know a word that fit. He just knew that this man had witnessed the invocation. Had seen Harry come from a kiss alone. Had seen him afterwards, kissing Severus all throughout the ritual meal, kissing the man as if he'd like to eat _him_ up instead of the food. 

Harry wished the floor would just open up and swallow him on the spot. 

Arthur Weasley stopped in mid-stride and turned a bright smile towards Harry. His expression faded in the next moment. "Hallo?" 

Oh, right. 

"It's me," said Harry, feeling foolish. "Harry. I took some Polyjuice." 

The other man narrowed his eyes. 

"Yeah. Long story. But it really is me. Who else could get through Severus' wards?" Harry flicked his wand to cast _Tempus_. "Give me a minute, eh? Six, actually. And then we can talk. Um, would you like a drink or something?" 

"Severus has already invited me to dinner," said Arthur. "I'll be fine until then." 

Harry smiled, trying to look like he thought dinner was a capital idea."Where is Severus, anyway?" 

"He mentioned something about a brew that needed stirring." 

"Be right back, then." Harry turned his footsteps down the hallway toward the potions lab. 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, July 12, 1998 ---- 6:12 p.m.**

"Why did you invite Arthur Weasley to stay for dinner?" 

Severus turned at the hissed question, setting aside his stirring stick. "He wasn't going to leave until he'd seen you, and I know how late you tend to stay out on your sojourns. Is there a problem?" 

"Of course there's a problem! I don't want anybody down here, knowing, thinking about--" 

"You're going to cut all old ties merely because you're now my slave?" 

Harry scowled. "Well, no. I'd like to have Hermione come around, though in her last couple of letters she seemed pretty busy with her job and figuring out what she wants to do now, but Mr Weasley's different!" Realising he had raised his voice, Harry swallowed. "Look, he saw me at the invocation, all right? I think that's enough said." 

"I told you he would understand what he saw." 

"Yeah, I know, but . . ." Harry made a wild gesture with his hands. "I wanted to talk to you about something, that's all!" 

Severus considered that for a moment. "I can tell him you were taken ill, if you like, and cancel dinner. However, you must realise that the sudden change in plans will only augment his concerns for you." 

Harry abruptly leaned against the wall. "I don't want to do that to Mr Weasley. Not when everything . . . well, nearly everything, is fine." 

"That's all he wants, you understand," said Severus calmly. He wondered briefly if the tone of voice wasn't enough, and he ought to offer Harry a calming draught as well. He certainly seemed distraught over the prospect of dinner with an old friend. "To see that you're doing well." 

Harry nodded even as he scowled again. He pushed off the wall. "All right. I'll go figure out a meal for the three of us." 

"Two," corrected Severus as he picked up his stirring stick again. "This potion will need my full attention for the next hour at least." 

He saw Harry glance at the row of neatly labelled bottles lined up on the counter. And then the young man snorted. "Yeah, it would, unless you put in a couple of powdered monkey's teeth to hold it over." 

"Four." Severus turned his gaze on Harry. "Did you learn nothing in my class?" 

Harry shrugged. "I knew it was monkey's teeth, didn't I?" 

Severus refused to admit that that had surprised him. "Just how many monkey's teeth do you expect I have on hand?" When Harry just stared at him, the Potions Master gnashed his teeth. "I'm trying to give you some time alone with Arthur. Is that so difficult for you to understand?" 

To Severus' surprise, Harry reached out and took his hand. "We're in this together." 

Severus tightened his fingers around Harry's, even as he said, "That doesn't mean we need to live in one another's cloak pockets." 

"Well, I haven't noticed us doing that, with me out exploring and you brewing or researching things most days," retorted Harry. "Listen, Mr Weasley's going to worry more if he thinks I still can't stand you. Not that he'd probably think _that_ after the invocation, but then again he does know I was under a potion so . . . come eat with us, Severus." 

Nodding, Severus summoned the monkey's teeth and quickly crushed them to a fine dust. By the time he was finished, Harry's eyes were green again, his hair an unruly mop of black. Much better. "Arthur's going to notice that you've grown," he said, thinking that these days, Harry was looking even more muscular and toned than before. All those hikes out into the highlands, he supposed. "What was it you wanted to discuss with me? We can probably keep him waiting for a few more minutes." 

A fleeting look of panic chased across Harry's features. No . . . panic and calculation both. An odd combination. "We'd better talk about it when Mr Weasley's gone," he said, leaving the lab before Severus could say anything more. 

Dinner ended up consisting of beef with cheese sauce and a decidedly uninspired salad slathered in some sort of sugary dressing. Severus found the meal rather depressing, actually, but at least the wine was adequate. Harry had ordered one of Severus' favourites, and kept topping up Severus' crystal glass. The young man wasn't usually so attentive during meals, but Severus supposed that Harry was putting on a show for Arthur. What sort of show was an entirely different question. Was he trying to prove he was perfectly content to serve Severus? Perhaps he was merely attempting to seem at ease. At home. 

The longer Severus thought on it, the more likely the latter seemed. Harry's conversation consisted of one anecdote after another, all of them leading to the same conclusion. Whether he was talking about plans for his new job or chuckling over the way Severus had brought home canal water from Venice to use in potions, the young man was projecting a deliberate aura of contentment. He wanted Arthur to believe that he was happy in his new life. 

Severus would like nothing better, but hearing it this way was even more depressing than the food. He knew perfectly well that such claims couldn't be true, especially not with the end of the month approaching so quickly, and Harry still unprepared to meet it. Harry was convincing enough, though. Arthur was nothing but smiles and nods and vapid expressions of pleasure as Harry rattled on and on about how much he was enjoying his summer at Hogwarts. 

Severus himself might have been fooled if he didn't know better. Part of him couldn't help but admire the well-constructed web of lies. Not that they were complete lies. He knew Harry wasn't actively miserable in his new life. But _happy?_ That, Severus doubted. 

The sentiment was only reinforced by the way Harry was speaking to Arthur and not to him. _Avoiding the mind bond,_ Severus thought. _Cagey. Very clever, Harry._

At last the meal was over, a gooey custard dessert included. Severus would have shuddered, but Harry had arranged only an after-dinner drink for him. A double. 

Severus drank it down gratefully. Arthur was a valuable Order member and a good friend to Harry, but there was only so much of him that Severus could endure in one sitting. 

When the interminable dinner was at last over, Arthur stood by the Floo, patting Harry on the hand and telling him that he was welcome at the Burrow whenever he wished to drop by. _Severus too, of course,_ he added in clear afterthought. As if Severus would wish to go within ten leagues of Weasley spawn during his holiday from teaching. 

Harry started stammering. "Uh . . . well nobody knows yet, you know. About Severus and me, so . . ." 

"Any visit at all is ill-advised at present," interrupted Severus. "Until July 31st is safely behind us. I'm sure you understand." 

The objection was true, of course, but it wasn't Severus' only objection. The mere idea of Harry off visiting filled Severus with a dark rush of loathing. It was a familiar sensation to Severus. He didn't care for Harry's infrequent mentions of the Granger girl, or her not-so-infrequent letters. More than once, Severus had wanted to incinerate her letters rather than see the look on Harry's face when he got them. Now there was happiness. 

But he wanted Harry to be happy. So why wasn't Severus delighted to hand those letters over and watch Harry rush upstairs to read them? 

"Thank you for coming, Arthur," he forced himself to say in farewell. Could he help it that his voice was a bit grim? He didn't like to have his privacy invaded, that was all. 

The other man smiled in answer before he finally dribbled Floo powder from his fingers and was gone. 

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, his head tilted to one side. "You look, I don't know. Grumpy." 

"I'm not used to visitors. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have that potion waiting--" 

Harry grabbed him by the sleeve. "It can wait a while yet. Overnight, even. I wanted to talk to you, remember?" 

Severus wanted to go off by himself. He felt like an animal needing to lick its wounds, though he couldn't have said why he should feel that way. But if Harry wanted him, he wasn't going to say no. 

_As if Harry will ever really want me,_ he thought bleakly. Once it had seemed possible. And then it had been assured. Now, he was beginning to lose hope. Not that he could afford to, considering their circumstances. But hope needed something to feed it. Severus felt as though all his hope had starved long ago. 

"Talk," Severus finally replied, nodding slightly. "Yes, all right. It sounds momentous, whatever it is. You didn't see anything alarming on your excursion, did you?" 

Harry's eyes widened. "I think I'd have known to tell you straight away, if I had." 

Severus wasn't entirely sure of that, given Harry's history with danger. But then again, ever since that ill-starred trip to London he'd been much more cautious. "What, then?" 

"Let's talk in bed," said Harry abruptly. 

_In bed?_ It was scarcely gone eight. Not that Severus was objecting. Still, if Harry was ready to try again, surely he could display the slightest hint of enthusiasm? He sounded like he was dreading something. 

"I think it might be easier to talk to you if I kiss you for a while first," added Harry. Only then did Severus realise that they were both still standing by the Floo. 

_Kiss him. In bed._ Severus didn't waste any more time before he led the way. 

Once they were in his bedroom, Harry straight away started unbuttoning Severus' shirt. Severus felt his breath catch. Harry hadn't undressed him since the night they'd danced together. That he would do so now explained why he looked so nervous. He was ready to try again. 

_Finally_ , Severus thought. It seemed like forever since then, though only a few days had passed. 

His pulse thrummed in anticipation as Harry dropped his shirt to the floor. So, the bed, now. But Harry made no move towards it, and neither was he undressing himself. Instead, his hands moved down, past Severus' bare abdomen. 

The sensation of Harry's fingers fumbling at the clasp securing Severus' trousers cut off all thought for a moment. Well. This was certainly progress, wasn't it? Of course he'd have to be careful not to go too far or too fast, this time. He wouldn't want the young man to panic again. So, no throwing a leg atop Harry's. No holding him down. 

_Perhaps Harry's going to hold you down, _a little voice whispered in his ear. _Perhaps that's what he wants to talk about. Perhaps he's figured out that taking charge in a far more literal way could provide a solution. Frottage again, perhaps. Harry on top, gasping, groaning . . ._

The young man abruptly shoved Severus' trousers and pants straight down over his hips. And then he did groan, though it could not have been a less sensual sound. "Oh. I'm a bit nervous. I guess I should have started with the shoes. Sorry." 

_Sorry?_ Severus wasn't. Not in the least. There was something charming about the fact that Harry wasn't experienced. That he'd never done this with anyone but Severus. 

"No matter." Severus stood on one foot and then the other to take off his boots, then quickly divested himself of every stitch of clothing. Harry didn't look down at Severus' cock, which was half-hard and trying to get harder. That was disappointing, but perhaps for the best. Seeing Harry blanch might well kill the mood, after all. 

Harry's hands moved to the hem of his pullover shirt, but then stilled. "No. Maybe you should?" 

Severus needed no more invitation than that. Stepping closer, he dove his hands beneath the fabric to caress Harry's taut abdomen, and then moved them upwards, stroking lightly. Such firm musculature. The feel of it made Severus' cock lengthen further. Unable to resist it, he stepped forward again, until his cock bumped up against Harry's hip. 

Harry stiffened slightly, but made no effort to object. In fact, his arms went around Severus, his fingers splayed against his back. 

Encouraged, Severus gave a tentative thrust. 

"Kiss," said Harry, his voice a thin thread of anxiety. 

It was a request for a distraction. Severus knew that, but he was still delighted to oblige. His cock liked it, too. Harry opening his mouth, almost shyly at first and then more widely. Harry's tongue sweeping against his. Harry leaning into him. 

Severus thrust against him again, more firmly this time. 

Harry didn't moan in anticipation, but neither did he pull away. He kept kissing Severus, and as the kiss went on, he even seemed to relax a little bit. Getting used to the nudity, Severus thought, even as he stopped thrusting. It wouldn't do to press for too much too soon. Best to let Harry set the pace. 

When Harry stepped back, his face was a little bit flushed, although his expression was more resolute than passionate. "I . . . uh, were you going to undress me?" 

Caught up in the feel of Harry's skin under his shirt, and in the kiss, Severus had forgotten. Which was a testament, he supposed, to how much Harry affected him. His own cock aching terribly by then, Severus stripped Harry's shirt off and waited while the young man toed off his shoes. 

As far as Severus was concerned, everything was going very well indeed. So it was a disappointment to see that Harry didn't look aroused in the slightest. Their kissing and touching sessions before had produced some reaction, he knew, even if it wasn't nearly enough. Now, Harry's cock was completely flaccid. 

Severus was possessed of a sudden longing to drop to his knees and swallow it down, every inch. To lave it and tease it to full awareness. His mouth actually began salivating at the thought. 

But if Harry wanted that, he would say so. Severus wasn't going to ruin this encounter the way he'd ruined the last one. Harry was in charge. 

What Harry did say was somewhat encouraging, at least. "Bed," he said, his voice a little bit rough. Sounding horribly nervous, actually. Severus wished he knew what to do to put him at ease. 

When they were lying side by side atop the covers, facing each other, Harry began touching him, running his hands up and down Severus' arms, then exploring his chest and the jutting bone at the curve of his hip. Severus was the one who moaned, then. Harry's hands were coming so close to his cock, his arms almost brushing it. 

Unable to resist it, Severus rolled forward slightly and touched their mouths together again. He kissed Harry with everything that was in him, trying to satisfy his pent-up passion that way, if not the other. Harry responded readily enough, but without the same level of passion. Without passion at all, really. It was more as though he were making himself go through the motions. 

Severus broke it off then, to speak, to tell Harry it wasn't necessary to try so hard. This was supposed to come naturally, after all. Perhaps both of them naked was rushing things. He was still debating what words to use when Harry's hands moved again, actually touching his cock this time, stroking its length. His touch was a little bit unsure at first, but then took on a steady rhythm, sliding up and down, squeezing at times. Gasping with need, Severus arched his hips forward, further into Harry's hands. His neck arched too, his lips parting as he breathed. 

Yes. Oh Merlin, yes. _So good_. And it had been so long. It seemed like years since they'd invoked, not a mere matter of weeks. 

Of course, it wasn't the best hand-job he'd ever had. Harry was a bit clumsy, nicking him with a nail a couple of times. And lube would have been most appreciated, especially when Harry began moving his hands faster. 

But Severus wouldn't have traded Harry for a more skilled partner, not for anything. Harry hadn't done this with anyone else. He was learning from Severus. With Severus. That somehow made even the clumsiness exciting. 

And all in all, he wasn't so very clumsy. In fact, as the moments drifted past in a haze of pleasure for Severus, it came to him that Harry was using some of the lessons Severus had taught him in the ritual bath. The way his hands lingered over Severus' cock head. The attention paid to his bollocks. _Mmmm,_ the feel of one hand squeezing while the other stroked. 

And yet there was something lacking as far as enthusiasm went. Perhaps it would help for them to be kissing while Harry did this, Severus thought. The young man was still far from aroused, but a kiss and a hand-job together had to be exciting, didn't it? As long as Severus was careful not to get greedy. The impulse to thrust Harry onto his back and roll atop him, to rub cock-on-cock, was almost overwhelming. 

But Severus wasn't going to lose control again. 

Their lips met, Severus again trying to coax Harry into _feeling_ rather than just doing. Into the kind of passion he knew Harry to be capable of. 

Harry's hands on him sped up, though the tenor of their kissing didn't change. 

It was wonderful, but chafing. 

" _Lubricus,_ " Severus gasped, ripping his mouth away as he reached behind him, fumbling for his wand. But of course it was several feet away on the floor, somewhere in the tangle of his clothing. 

Harry made a noise almost like a gulp. Severus could have kicked himself, then. What was he thinking, suggesting lubrication? Too suggestive of working his way into that delectable backside. 

Before he could retract the suggestion, though, Harry was rolling off the bed to collect his own wand. "Good idea," he said, his voice tight. 

Severus almost told him to never mind, but in the end, he couldn't quite say it. Harry might be reluctant, but he was willing, too. And that made it all right, didn't it? Especially considering that Severus had every intention of taking this only as far as Harry wished. 

Besides, by then he really needed some relief. The thought of Harry's hands on him again, this time sliding wet and warm all over his cock -- how could Severus refuse that? He'd been foolish before, to turn down anything Harry was willing to offer. It wasn't as though he was forcing Harry. The hand-job hadn't even been Severus' suggestion. 

" _Lubricus,_ " said Harry, waving the wand awkwardly. Nothing happened, but that wasn't so surprising; Harry didn't really know how to cast the spell. When had he needed _Lubricus?_ Again, Severus was struck by a sense of Harry's innocence. His cock jumped thinking about it. 

Shrugging, Harry passed the wand over as he slid onto the bed again. 

Severus was shocked to see his own hand shaking, so fierce was his desire. He'd denied himself for too long. Strange how he'd gone years with nothing but solitary showers to satisfy his needs, but now that he had Harry, it seemed such a burden to restrict himself. 

He cast the spell in haste, the results a bit messier than usual. And then he waited. 

It seemed to take Harry a moment to resume. Gathering his nerve, Severus thought. He probably knew that Severus was close-- 

But all Harry did was slick the salve all across Severus' cock. Then he drew back with no real effort made to pleasure Severus. It was all Severus could do not to scream. 

"Maybe we should talk now," said Harry in a shaky voice. 

_Talk?_ Severus very nearly erupted. _Now?_

He had to grit his teeth to keep the words inside. When he did speak, the single word he uttered emerged on a rasping note. "Yes?" 

Harry drew in a breath, and then another, and then blurted, "I want to do it, all right? Tonight. Straight away. I want to just get it over with." 

No need to ask what _it_ was. 

"You want . . . " The prospect was so enticing that Severus actually felt his head swim for a moment. "You're asking me to--" 

"Yes," said Harry, nodding emphatically. "I think we'd better. And . . ." Clearing his throat, he glanced down at Severus' aching cock. "You're ready, right? I mean, you look pretty ready. So let's just--" 

Severus felt like the frustration was going to tear him apart. To be offered what he wanted, Harry willing. But to be offered it like this, in a way that couldn't possibly work? He hadn't forgotten how badly Harry had reacted to a casual leg slung across his, holding him down. And now he proposed that Severus should take him? What on earth made him think he wouldn't panic again, this time probably in much worse fashion? 

Severus didn't want to see Harry's nightmares of the rapes returning. 

It was an effort to keep his voice level. "And you feel ready for that, do you?" 

"Yeah," said Harry, nodding again. But his eyes were bright with strain. "I mean, uh, I had an idea." 

"An idea." 

Harry darted a hand down and began stroking Severus' cock again. Almost like he was encouraging Severus. Keeping Severus hard and interested, even as he spoke. "I think we're not getting anywhere, right?" 

"We're lying here together naked with your hand on my cock," said Severus dryly. "That's not exactly nowhere." 

"Uh, yeah . . . but we're only like this now because I already decided what we need to do to get me past my . . . er, issues." 

Severus shifted his hips into a more stimulating position. He could hardly think for wanting Harry. But still . . . "However much you want us to make progress, you can't control your reflexes." It made him ache to go on, but he told himself that Harry's hand on him was enough. For the moment, at least. He gasped as he thrust his hips forward. _So close . . ._ "We needn't go further for tonight, Harry. This is--" Another thrust. Another gasp, that one almost a high whine of need. "Really quite satisfying." 

Harry's hand kept stroking him, slowing as though to keep Severus from coming. His voice a low murmur, he spoke against the side of Severus' mouth, almost kissing him with every word. "But I _can_ control my reflexes, Severus. Or maybe it's more a case of you can do it for me." His tongue darted out to swipe against Severus' teeth. 

_Are you trying to drive me insane?_

Harry's next word made the question die in his throat. 

" _Compulsio_ ," Harry whispered against his lips. "Hmm?" 

Time almost stood still. Severus usually prided himself that few things shocked him, but that certainly did. For a moment, he wasn't even sure he'd heard correctly. Of course, it didn't help that Harry's hand was teasing him, now. Keeping Severus on the brink, never letting him slip past it. 

He struggled to think past the need pulsing through his bollocks and cock. "You want me to . . ." 

Harry kissed him before he answered. Kissed him long and slow, his breath hot against Severus' cheek when he pulled back a scant inch to speak. "Yes. I want you to. It's perfect, don't you see?" 

Something clicked inside Severus. _Yes,_ he thought. _Perfect._ The word seemed to slur through his mind, it sounded so true. He needed Harry, after all. He'd been patient and understanding ever since he'd found out about London. He'd been good as Galleons to the young man. And this . . . surely this was his reward for all that patience. Harry was willing now. He was the one initiating, the one asking. 

And what was _Compulsio_ for, really, except this very situation? It was designed to help a supplicant who was too fearful to obey something of great import. 

_Perfect_ , Severus thought again. He thrust once more, the delicious ache in his cock intensifying. 

"Yes. _Compulsio_." 

Harry scooted forwards and kissed his neck, right behind the ear. "Yes. Good." 

"How do you . . ." His mind feeling like a thick haze of need, Severus started over. "Is there a position you'd prefer?" 

He heard rather than saw Harry swallow several times in quick succession. "Oh. Um, well not, you know." 

The tension in his voice told Severus what he meant. _Not hands and knees._ Of course not. And not any position in which Harry would feel that he was being held down or restrained. 

"Roll over," said Severus, pushing a bit on Harry's shoulder. Harry obligingly flipped onto his other side, though his breathing was ragged, and not from need. He was scared, no doubt about it. No wonder he'd been on edge earlier, if this was what he'd wanted to discuss. Or ask for, rather. 

When Harry's whole back was facing him, Severus nudged the young man's uppermost leg with his knee, so it would fall forward and cause his buttocks to splay slightly apart. The sight of that alone almost made him come. Good thing he'd had more to drink than usual, he thought a little ruefully. Otherwise this might have been over before anything real was accomplished. 

Patting the bedclothes behind him, Severus found Harry's wand and cast a cleaning and lubrication spell. He thought twice, however, before he used it to cast something as serious as _Compulsio._ Best use his own wand for that. Summoning it took no time at all. 

"Less light?" 

Harry's messy hair flew out as he shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Just . . . _now_ , all right?" 

So brave. Severus knew it should irritate him, a Gryffindor trait like that. It didn't, though. All he could think about was how much he wanted Harry. And how now this bravery meant that Severus would have him. 

" _Compulsio_ ," he murmured, waving his wand. 

The spell seemed to charge the air between them, in a way it hadn't before. But then, of course, Severus was only testing it. Now he intended to use it, and that, he found, made a difference. 

Only after it was cast did it occur to him that he wasn't quite sure what commands to issue. He doubted he could force Harry to feel pleasure or forget his reasons to not feel it. 

Harry seemed to understand his difficulty. "Reflexes," he gasped, his buttocks shaking as he lay there, waiting. 

"Relax," said Severus, moving closer only afterwards. He tapped his wand to Harry's hip, and then, very gently, to the crack between his arse cheeks. "Relax. Don't fight what I do to you. I'll do nothing to hurt you." 

Harry's muscles lost their tension, his posture slumping slightly even though he was already lying down. 

"All right?" asked Severus. 

It took the young man a long moment to answer. "Um, yeah. I think so." Harry shuddered, ever so slightly, when Severus rested a palm against his arse, but he didn't yank himself away. "I . . . yeah. Stronger than reflexes. This'll do." 

"Good." Severus caressed his whole arse, then. Such firm flesh. Even relaxed, it was toned and delectable. He couldn't stop himself from enjoying the feel of it. 

"Could you . . . er, get on with it, then?" 

Not exactly the most enticing way to make such a suggestion, but Severus was keenly aware by then that beggars couldn't be choosers. And using _Compulsio_ like this was just stopgap, anyway. As soon as Harry had certain knowledge that sex with Severus would be entirely different from what he'd suffered in London, things between them would improve. 

"I'll prepare you first," he murmured. No matter that Harry was desperate for the deed to be over and done with. Severus was determined not to cause him any pain that could be avoided, and that meant stretching him first. Thoroughly. 

He rubbed a hand against his own cock to get it slick with lubricant, then began to gently insert a single finger into Harry's opening. The young man was marvellously tight. He wasn't clenching, of course. Under the force of the spell, he couldn't. Despite that, Severus knew it was going to take a while to ready Harry. 

It wasn't often that Severus wished he were less well-endowed, but this was one of those times. 

"All right?" he asked again, rotating his finger as he slowly pushed it more deeply inside. 

Harry gave a shaky nod. "Yeah, so stop asking. I'll tell you if . . . look, I'm not enjoying this like before. It feels bloody awful but it seems like I can't move away, so I doubt it won't be all right." 

_I'm not enjoying this. It feels bloody awful._

Severus didn't like the sound of that. Feeling like an inconsiderate oaf, he belatedly moved his free hand around Harry and took the young man's cock in hand. Harry didn't fight that, of course. He couldn't. But he clearly didn't like it in the least. His cock gave no reaction at all, not even so much as a twitch. Severus stroked him anyway, just the way Harry used to like it, but it was no use. 

Sighing, he stopped trying to arouse Harry, though he did keep hold of his cock. Then he pressed on. Literally, sliding a second finger in beside the first. 

Harry gasped then. "That burns. Tell me not to feel it--" 

Severus tried, but _Compulsio_ didn't work, not for that. "Would you like to stop, then?" he asked, his voice ragged. 

_Say no, say no,_ a voice inside him begged. _Tell me you want this, want me--_

"No." Harry's hands were clenching the bedcovers by then, his fingers white with stress. Clearly, his body knew which parts Severus had ordered to relax. "I'd like you to finish." 

_It's only this once,_ Severus told himself as he kept stretching Harry. The young man started to whimper. Severus could have told him to stop it, of course, but that seemed like it would exceed the unspoken agreement they'd reached earlier. Still, the noise bothered Severus. More than he'd expected. More, even, than he was willing to admit. He made himself ignore it, even though by then, this whole encounter was beginning to feel more and more like a violation. 

It wasn't that, though. _It wasn't_. Harry had asked for this, had practically begged. He needed it. 

And Severus needed it, too. 

Letting go of Harry's flaccid cock, Severus shifted his hips forward, withdrawing his fingers and placing a palm on the small of Harry's back to adjust the young man's position slightly. 

Harry hitched in a breath when the tip of Severus' cock made contact with his body, sliding up and down the crack between his arse cheeks until it was coated with a thick sheen of slick salve. One hand on his own cock, the other hand still on Harry, Severus positioned himself for entry, thrusting forward slightly, until his tip descended between those cheeks and was resting against the well-stretched opening to Harry's body. 

Harry had said not to ask again, but Severus had to. This felt too much like rape, with Harry's hands still clawing the bedcovers, his eyes clenched shut, his breathing a laboured wheeze that practically screamed panic. 

Severus couldn't continue, not without hearing that Harry still wanted him to go through with this. "All right?" 

Frustration seemed to boil in the young man's voice. Or perhaps, boil over. "Yeah, yeah, of course. What do you think I'm made of, fairy dust? I can take it. It's even fine, all right? I mean, if we never get sex working out then we can just keep doing this, all right? And as long as you're kept satisfied maybe we can even cross powers. Yeah. Just go ahead and do it." 

Severus was already pressing forward still more, his cock wanting to thrust into Harry's body. Just a little more and he'd be there . . . Then his mind registered what Harry had just said. 

_We can just keep doing this._

_As long as you're kept satisfied._

Suddenly, Severus realised that he couldn't. Just couldn't. Reaching for his wand, he forced himself to say two words. " _Finite Incantatem."_ One long, deprived sigh later, he pulled his cock back, away from Harry. Away from temptation. 

The moment Harry was released from the spell his whole body jerked forward, his muscles obviously doing what they had longed to, all along. Getting away from Severus. Getting away from sex. 

Quickly recovering, Harry flipped onto his other side to lie facing Severus, who was on his back by then, his hands laced tightly behind his neck. "What? Why'd you stop?" 

He sounded demanding, which would have been encouraging in other circumstances. Not like this, though. The frustration Severus could hear wasn't caused by frantic desire. It was coming from a need to get the whole thing over with, and it left a bad taste in Severus' mouth. 

He couldn't help it if his voice sounded harsh when he answered. His cock was weeping by then, his bollocks taut and filled with fire. He needed what he'd almost had! But he couldn't take it, not that way. " _Compulsio_ is not a sound idea, Harry." 

A wheedling voice. A hand on his chest, trailing down towards his groin. "Sure it is, Severus. You heard me, I was doing all right. Everything'll be fine . . ." 

Grabbing Harry's wrist before those fingers could begin stroking his cock, Severus pushed the young man's hand away from him. He saw it then, what he'd been too dense to see before. All those touches before had been deliberate. Urging him to leave his common sense behind, to just do as Harry wanted, no matter that it was the wrong thing for Harry. For both of them. 

"Everything will not be fine," he rasped. "You're talking already of my using _Compulsio_ again and again! You're planning to rely on it indefinitely!" 

"I am not," said Harry, sitting up on the bed then and yanking the foot of the covers up to conceal his lower body. "I said _if_ , all right? It's just in case, Severus." 

By the end, his voice was turning slightly plaintive again. 

"Just in case I don't mind forcing you, over and over?" Severus sat up too, though he made no effort to hide his own nudity."I told you what I thought of that. It's close to rape, what you're talking about. Isn't that what I said?" 

"That was when I didn't want it--" 

Severus almost growled. "You don't want it now!" 

"You know what I mean," cried Harry, shaking his head. "Look, in one sense I more than want it, I need it! And so what if it's not the way you wanted things to be? I won't hold it against you, I swear! I mean, be reasonable! I asked you to do it to me!" 

"You asked me to," said Severus in a scathing a voice. He ignored the bit about Harry not resenting him afterwards, mostly because it was probably true. Damned Gryffindor, as stupid as he was brave. Too noble and self-sacrificing for his own good. Asking to be forced, for Merlin's sake! 

Severus wanted to cast a crushing spell on something. Harry, actually. 

"It would still be forcing you," he said in a cold voice. "It felt awful. You were lying there hating it. Your own words, or near enough. I won't be the one to show you that sex with me is as horrid as it was with them." 

"It wasn't! They hurt me--" 

"I was hurting you too, or were those not tears in your eyes?" 

Harry twisted his lips into a snarl. "Of course they fucking well weren't! I told you I could take it! What do you think, I'm some _girl_ or something?" 

"I think you're a _man_ ," said Severus, snarling back. "A man I-- A man who doesn't know what's best for him at the moment!" 

"Oh, and you do?" Harry jumped off the bed, apparently forgetting that he was wearing nothing. "Who do you think you are, God Almighty?" 

"I think I _own_ you!" yelled Severus, jumping up too. The bed between them, he rounded to face Harry. "I'll decide what we will and won't do, when it comes to sex or anything else!" 

"Oh you will, will you?" Harry's gaze dropped to Severus' jutting cock. "We'll just see about that." 

Severus felt his gut twist. That was all he needed, for Harry to start using his youth and attractiveness to manipulate Severus. Just as he'd done tonight, with the wine and then the blatant seduction. Trying to get Severus to abandon his better sense. Using sex as a weapon against him, when he'd been so careful not to do that very thing to Harry! And this was his reward? A lover who tried to twist him around his finger? 

More and more enraged the longer he thought on it, Severus narrowed his eyes. "I may treat you well, but let's not forget that you're my slave, Harry. You'll do as you're told, whether you like it or not! And if you won't, I'll _make_ you!" Severus dropped his gaze to his wand, still lying on the bed. 

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out, not at first. And then he yelled. Loudly. "I knew you'd go all . . . horrible, sooner or later!" 

That stung, but Severus hardly cared. "Then it comes as no surprise. If you'll excuse me?" He whirled away. Part of him didn't even want a shower any longer, but other parts did. One part. 

"Severus, don't you understand?" Harry dragged in a harsh breath. "I'm going to die! _Die!_ I know you might not care so much, might be even relieved to get rid of the slave you never even wanted, but--" 

Furious, Severus turned around and pointed a finger at Harry. "That's the most insulting thing I've ever heard!" 

"Don't listen to yourself very often then, do you?" 

"You actually think I want you dead!" 

"I think you'd better not let it happen, 'cause then you'd be in deep shite with Voldemort, won't you?" 

" _The Dark Lord!_ " 

"The Dark Arse, maybe. He's no lord of mine!" 

Severus snatched up his wand, then, and levelled it at Harry. He wasn't about to put up with outright defiance, not from a young man he owned, a young man he was trying to help, trying to save. 

But the look on Harry's face kept him from actually casting anything. Not manipulative, not now. And not angry any longer, either. Harry just looked frightened, and his voice when he spoke was very quiet. "I don't want to die, Severus. Is that asking so much? And you're the only one who can stop it. I can't do it by myself. I _need_ you." 

Sighing, Severus tossed his wand back onto the bed. "I won't force you, Harry." 

"You have to--" 

"No." 

Harry's legs abruptly buckled. He managed not to fall by staggering back to lean against the stone wall. "Then I'm dead. And you. And Dumbledore. And everybody I love. And--" 

His voice was shaking. Ragged, and then he stopped, like the only future he could see was too bleak to be endured. His expression was utterly hopeless. Finally, he said just one word more, a word that hurt Severus to hear, it was so plaintive. 

"Please?" 

"No," Severus said again, his own voice a thin rasp of noise. The prospect of Harry dead almost tore him in two, and not because of the other deaths that would result. But the prospect of him alive and miserable bothered him just as much. "I'll help you." 

" _How?_ " 

The idea burst into Severus' head from nowhere. "A potion." Stepping around the bed, he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook until the young man looked at him. "I'll brew you a potion, Harry. To cure your reluctance. To make you want me again." 

Harry's answering laugh echoed bitterly off the walls. "There isn't any such potion. You know that. Otherwise, you'd have thought of this before." 

"I'll develop one." 

"Well, you can try, but--" 

"I'll succeed," promised Severus. "Get dressed and come into the lab. I'll need some hair and blood, to begin with." 

Harry shook his head. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said. I know you don't want me dead. You're a good man--" 

"No, I'm not." 

"Severus, _please._ Forget this potion idea. There isn't any time." 

"You speak as though it's the 31st already." Moving away, Severus gathered up his clothes and began putting them on, ignoring his erection. This was no time for a shower. He briefly glared at Harry. "Get dressed, I said." 

Harry shook his head even as he did as he'd been told. 

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, July 18, 1998 ---- 3:13 p.m.**

Harry shook himself all over as he reached the shallows of the lake and stood up. One of the advantages of summer at Hogwarts, he'd decided, was as much swimming as he liked. As it turned out, he liked it quite a lot. Yet one more thing he'd learned about himself. He was going to miss his daily dips when term began. 

He'd thought he'd be so bored without someone else setting his schedule and giving him work to do, but between hiking, swimming, reading up on Defence, practicing his art animation spells, and the occasional chat with Albus--sometimes even a walk into Hogsmeade--he was finding more than enough to fill his days. 

His nights, in contrast, were turning into almost a wasteland. Severus had been working until late every evening in his lab. Developing an aphrodisiac powerful enough to overcome Harry's inhibitions took an awful lot of brewing, it turned out. Harry had actually been a little taken aback that night in the lab when he'd realised what Severus had in mind. It sounded so blunt to him. So . . . artificial. 

_Wouldn't a love potion be a better idea?_ he'd asked. Never mind that he didn't particularly want to fall in love with a man who'd just gone on about how Harry was his property and had better obey him. Something to just make him crave sex even though he'd still have all those memories of the rapes . . . that was just icky. He'd rather just grit his teeth and do it under _Compulsio_. 

But Severus had rejected the idea of anything that would tamper with Harry's emotions or memory. Funny how he didn't seem to mind the idea of messing about with his hormones. 

_But being in love would probably make everything easier,_ Harry had argued. _I might forget about what happened in London if I fell in love, you know. So why not brew something like that? I heard of this one that seems pretty effective. They say Romilda Vane was using it a couple of years back--_

_I don't want you in love with me on account of a potion,_ Snape had interrupted in a scathing voice. Really, he'd sounded close to appalled by the prospect. 

Ha. Harry figured that the other man's real objection was a bit different. He didn't want Harry in love with him at all. Not even if it came from a potion. But Harry could understand that, actually. The idea of Severus loving him would have been alarming, too. 

Not that he had anything to worry about on that particular score. 

_Besides,_ Severus had quickly added, _being in love wouldn't necessarily make you want to be penetrated, you realise._

Penetrated. Harry felt ill just hearing the word. It called to mind too many images of things he was trying to forget. 

At any rate, by then Harry had gone off the idea of a love potion. 

_What about something to make me willing, or even eager, to do anything you say?_

_Liquid Imperio?_ Snape had shaken his head. _If I wanted to take you against your true will I'd just cast Compulsio and be done with it. What I want is for you to desire me, at least to some degree. I want you to be able to let go of your inhibitions, but I won't give you anything that compels obedience, or clouds your thinking, except to throw you into a haze of lust. I want you to enjoy making love, Harry._

_Look,_ Harry had said. _I don't care any more if I enjoy it--_

_I care,_ Severus had said in a hard voice. _Now, I think I have everything I need from you, so why don't you go and see if Albus has decided which Defence candidates he plans to interview?_

Harry knew what that meant. When Severus was brewing, the last thing he wanted was someone underfoot. Particularly, someone like Harry who was a bit of a klutz when it came to potion-making. Never mind that he'd known about the monkey's teeth earlier. That had just been a fluke. One of the rare things Harry remembered from the exercises in humiliation Severus called "lessons." 

The _go and see Albus_ suggestion had been a dismissal; Harry knew that. He was in two minds about accepting it, but figured more arguing wasn't going to get them anywhere. Albus hadn't been in, though. Harry had ended up in the library, reading up on aphrodisiac potions. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, July 18, 1998 ---- 6:16 p.m.**

"Don't tell me. It's not ready yet," said Harry later that evening when Snape emerged from his laboratory. 

"Actually, it is." 

Surprised, Harry glanced up. "Oh. So we'll test it tonight, then? I mean, now? I'd just as soon get it over with." 

"Not the sort of thing one generally tells one's lover, Harry." 

"Well, we're not exactly--" Harry gulped. "I mean, yeah, we are, but it seems kind of distant these days. Sorry. It's just, you can't expect me to be looking forward to it, can you?" 

"Perhaps you will once you've had the potion." Severus smiled rather thinly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have a shower before dinner." 

"You and your showers." 

"Not for that." 

Harry blinked. "Oh, your hair stuff for the fumes. Right. I suppose you couldn't . . . er, mess about with yourself, not if you're going to . . . er, have it off tonight." 

" _We're_ going to 'have it off,' as you put it. And there's no need to look so nervous. You'll enjoy yourself. I guarantee it." 

Harry didn't doubt that part, really. Severus Snape wasn't a potions master for nothing. He'd know how to brew an aphrodisiac that could knock Harry's socks off. Maybe that was why Harry was so reluctant. He wasn't ready for sex yet, and he knew it. Lying still and letting Severus just do it to him, that he thought he could bear. Not that Severus would agree. 

But to enjoy the same thing those horrible men had done? Harry didn't want to. He didn't want to be aroused, didn't want to come, didn't want anything to do with sex. Which probably explained how things had been going lately. Not that understanding helped at all. 

But he _was_ going to enjoy it. Severus' potion would make sure of it. 

"Yeah," said Harry thickly, feeling cold all over. "Um, do you want anything in particular to eat? We are going to wait until after dinner, aren't we?" 

"Steak," said Severus. "Rare. And Harry, you _will_ enjoy it." 

"I know." Sighing, Harry turned away to go arrange their meal. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, July 18, 1998 ---- 7:32 p.m.**

"I hope this doesn't taste like drek," muttered Harry as he stared at a flask full of something pea-green and frothy. "It smells a bit like mildew." 

Severus curtly gestured for him to just drink it. Well, at least he hadn't said what he was obviously thinking: that Harry was an idiot to whinge on about something as insignificant as mere taste. 

Then again, Severus wasn't the one drinking it. Ugh. Harry almost spat it out, it was so foul. But he needed it. More than anything, really, since Severus was so insistent about not using _Compulsio_ to get them past Harry's birthday. 

Clenching his teeth to keep the potion in his mouth, Harry swallowed. The minute Severus took the flask and corked it, Harry gasped, "Can I have some fizzy water like that time after the Dragon's Happy?" 

A moment later he was drinking some. It helped wash the awful taste away. Good thing. Otherwise Severus wouldn't want to kiss him. And being . . . penetrated without even any kissing first, that sounded just horrible. Too much like-- 

No. _No._ He wasn't going to think about that. 

"Why do you keep your quarters so damned hot?" he suddenly asked, tugging at his collar. 

"Oh, are you warm?" asked Severus in a smooth voice. "Perhaps you're wearing too many clothes." 

That made sense. Harry whipped his shirt over his head as he walked toward the bedroom. "So it's starting, I guess." He grabbed his wand from his trousers before he shucked them off, and cast a cooling spell. "Ah. That's better." 

"I would say so." 

"Very funny--" Harry was about to say something more, when an odd feeling washed over him. Well, one part of him. It wasn't really all that odd, actually. It had just been a while since he'd had a real erection. He looked down to see his cock rising until it strained the limits of his pants. "Oh. Well, that's certainly good." 

Strange -- the erection at first had felt only like his skin was stretching a bit, but as soon as he noticed it, _then_ he started actually feeling aroused. Oh, God, he'd never been this hard, had he? And he was just getting harder. He could both feel and see that much. His cock was going to split his pants at this rate. 

Harry shucked them off too, and started wishing he'd cast a stronger cooling charm. His breath coming faster, his heart starting to pound, he cupped a hand around his own cock and moaned. "Oh, now _that's_ good--" 

"Perhaps you'd allow me," said Severus, coming closer and closer until they were practically embracing. One arm around Harry's back, his other hand started to stroke his cock. 

"Oh God, yes," said Harry thickly. The sensation and pure need roiling through him just kept building and building. Desire, that was it. Desire like he hadn't felt in a long time. It was all over his body, racing under his skin, all of it flowing towards his cock. And his balls. "Oh God, my balls," he moaned. He thought he'd die right there on the spot if somebody didn't touch them. 

And then Severus was fondling them, one of his fingers reaching behind them to stroke the bit of skin there. 

Harry made a strangled noise, halfway between a groan and a scream as he panted. "Yeah, yeah, there. Like that. _Ahhhh . . ._ " 

"You're very handsome," Severus said, his free hand coming around to Harry's chest. "All of you." 

Harry made another incoherent sound, then tried again. "Ah. Yeah. Oh! I meant you. Yeah, your hair . . . _nice . . ._ " 

"Thank you," said Severus, his voice shaking a little bit. He sounded amused, Harry dazedly thought, but that was less important than the fact that they were finally on the bed. Strange, he couldn't really remember walking over to it. Only a tumbling sensation. 

Side by side they lay, facing each other, Severus' hand still stroking Harry's hardness. 

"Mmm, so _good,_ " groaned Harry. "Oh, yeah--" 

A chuckle. A dark, deep chuckle that Harry could feel in his cock. 

But then the stroking fingers went away. Surely that wasn't right. 

"No--" 

"Shhh," said Severus, laying a finger against Harry's lips. "I think this will work better if I undress as well." 

Harry blinked then. "Oh. Yeah. Good idea." _Brilliant_ , that was what he'd meant to say, but it seemed like he couldn't talk so well. Every third word out his mouth was _nice_ or _good_ or _yes._ But Severus didn't seem to mind. 

He watched as Severus lowered the lights slightly and set a few candles ablaze, and then began shedding clothing. Pale skin coming into view. Dark hair swinging over shoulders as the man twisted his body. 

Harry couldn't stand it. He was on his back, though he couldn't remember shifting onto it, his hips rolling up in a smooth motion, over and over, his cock sliding through the curled fingers of his waiting hand. He knew Severus was watching, but he didn't care. He needed this too much to care. His cock was filled to bursting, the tip of it slick now, like Severus had just licked it-- 

"Hands at your sides," said Severus as the mattress dipped under his weight. 

Harry gulped. "No, I'm almost--" 

"Exactly." The man's dry tones washed over him, nothing but noise at first. Harry hardly heard him over the roaring in his ears. But then the meaning reached him. Oh. 

Right. 

He dropped his hands away, feeling like the sudden loss was going to kill him. Actually, it probably _would_ have killed him if he hadn't known that Severus would take care of him. 

_"Lubricus,"_ the other man said, and Harry thought he'd never felt anything so good as the wetness that suddenly slicked him, cock and balls both. Or not, that was, until Severus' hands wrapped around him, both of them this time, stroking and pulling in a rhythm that Harry was sure would drive him mad. 

"K- k- kiss," he heard himself beg, the word coming out on its own. 

"On your side, then," murmured Severus, reaching a slick hand to his shoulder and pulling to help him roll. 

Their tongues met, the contact wet and hot. Steamy, Severus matching the thrust of his tongue to the motions of his hands down below. Harry thought the top of his head was going to blow off, it was all so good. He actually felt his hair standing on end, even on the back of his legs. 

He heard a grunting noise. A _rutting_ noise, and was slow to realise it was coming from him. Even when he did realise, he didn't care. It was all of it good, making his cock pulse, his balls ache with a pain so intense and focused that it could only be called sweet. 

"Mmm," he moaned into Severus' mouth, his tongue swiping the other man's teeth. He felt like he wanted to gobble Severus up, like he couldn't get enough, like the bed beneath them was the whole world. His hands clutched at Severus' shoulders, pulling him closer. Cock to cock, that was it. That was what he wanted, but something was in the way . . . 

Frustrated, Harry ripped his mouth away from Severus' as he made a high, desperate noise. 

"I think you're ready," said Severus, his voice again lurking with humour. But it didn't sound like ridicule, so that was all right. Or maybe, Harry thought, he wouldn't have cared about that either, not so long as the thrumming in his cock was finally satisfied. 

"Roll over on your other side." 

Harry nodded, some kind of awareness cutting through the potion he'd taken. _Roll over so your arse faces me,_ that was what Severus meant. Harry was still desperate, still aching, his cock thrusting against empty air now as he flipped onto his back and over, but a kind of coldness was gripping him as well. Trying to make it go away, he wrapped a hand around his cock and began pumping. That was what he needed, right? A distraction, so he wouldn't feel it when-- 

And this time, Severus didn't stop him. 

A hand on his arse, massaging his cheeks. 

Harry pumped harder. He was close. Maybe if he came first he could be lost in it when Severus pushed inside him, he thought. 

A finger, sliding down his crack and gently parting his cheeks. 

Harry yanked himself away, hard, panting. "No!" 

Behind him, a sudden stillness. "No?" murmured Severus, putting a hand on his shoulder to gently move him onto his back once more. "Talk." 

"I . . ." Harry shook his head, wildly. It was difficult to be coherent when his cock was hard as granite and need was racing along his every nerve. That hadn't changed. "I . . . I _can't!_ " 

Severus leaned forward to kiss him. "Shhh. My mistake. We'll go a bit slower." 

And they did, that time, as the candles burned around them. Kisses until Harry's head spun. Long, slow strokes on his cock, and Severus' low voice talking on, saying that Harry was exquisite. A lot more talking than Harry would have expected, really. Some dim part of his brain thought that was probably Severus' way of keeping Harry with him in the present, of warding bad memories away. 

But none of it mattered. The instant Severus slid a finger between his cheeks again, Harry flailed against him, trying to get away. But at the same time he was almost crying, his cock was such a burning, thrusting mass of need by then. 

He _would_ die if he didn't come. He knew it, sure as he knew his own name. But if didn't matter; he couldn't get past that brick wall. 

"All right," said Severus finally, one finger reaching up to wipe a bit of moisture away from the corner of Harry's eye. His voice was ragged. No sensuous drawl now. Through the fog, Harry could hear that Severus sounded disappointed. "This isn't working." 

"I . . . I need--" 

"I know." Hands on Harry's shoulders, Severus rolled onto his back, pulling Harry on top of him. Chest to chest, cock to cock, Harry's hips settling into a rhythm that seemed to come from nowhere as he thrust against the other man. 

"Ah . . . ah . . . _ahhhh!_ " 

He screamed as he came, the sudden release of tension too much for him. And he climaxed like a rocket, come spraying out with such force that he thought he'd be a dried up husk, afterwards. 

When it was all over, he hid his face against Severus' shoulder. "Oh, God." 

The other man was still moving, his hard cock sliding against Harry's softening one. 

Oh, right. It wasn't all over. 

Harry pushed up a bit on his hands and kissed Severus, long and deep as the other man strained toward his own climax, shouting something incoherent when he came. 

By then, Harry felt back to normal. The dungeons were actually a little cool now, he thought. It was like the aphrodisiac had been spent completely when Harry had come. He could think again, or at least, more rationally than before. Realising he was still lying on top of Severus, he quickly rolled to the side. "That was intense." 

"Yes," drawled Severus, moving up on the bed to lean against the pillows piled near the head. "Very satisfying. I like having you in my bed, Harry. Though we rather missed the point." 

Harry sighed. "Yeah. Sorry." 

"Don't apologise." Severus glanced sideways, his eyebrows drawing together. "A more potent aphrodisiac is called for, that's all. I'll begin work on it tomorrow and we'll try again when it's ready." 

Harry's throat felt tight. " _More_ potent? My cock'll explode!" 

"I think I can avoid that." Severus' smile was tight. "I do know a thing or two about brewing." 

"I didn't mean-- well, I did, but . . ." Harry ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Look, that one worked fine. It couldn't have made me want sex more. But nothing's going to make me want you in there, not after--" He sighed. "Severus, we're running out of time!" 

"Nonsense." 

Harry tried compromising. "What about _Compulsio_ with the aphrodisiac?" 

"No." 

"Severus--" 

"I am not going to force you!" shouted the other man. "You have to want me. Now, that's enough, Harry!" 

"Or you'll shut me up with _Compulsio,_ I bet," muttered Harry. 

Severus sat up completely and glared. And he really did know how to glare, Harry thought. "How _dare_ you say that to me!" 

"You're the one who threatened it, saying you'd _make_ me back off if I wouldn't obey you!" 

"The only time I have truly used the spell was at your urging," said Severus coldly. "And while it's not outside the realm of possibility that I might need it at some point, I wouldn't use it to _shut you up._ Though I certainly wish you'd do that on your own." 

"Fine!" said Harry, crossing his arms and flopping back against the pillows. "Enjoy your damned shower!" 

Severus lay down as well. "What makes you think I'd want a shower?" 

"Or cleaning charm, whatever, like before--" 

"That was at your insistence," said Severus. "I happen to like your smell on me. But if you want a shower, by all means go right ahead." He waved an arm toward the bathroom. 

Feeling mulish, Harry shook his head. 

"No?" The question was snide, Harry thought. Severus snatched his wand up and spelled out the lights and candles. "Good night, then!" 

A few minutes passed in silence, the only noise Severus' ragged breathing and Harry's angry breaths. Gradually, those noises died away. 

And then Harry started chuckling a bit. 

"What?" barked Severus. 

"Um . . . don't you think we should get under the covers before we fall asleep?" 

"Oh, very well." There was a bit of pushing and pulling as they climbed properly into bed, and then more silence, until Severus said quietly, "Harry, go and have a shower like you wanted." 

"No," Harry said again, but not angrily this time. "I didn't realise before, but I kind of like your smell on me, too. Morning'll be soon enough." He yawned. "Night." 

Severus pulled him closer, then, pillowing Harry's head on his shoulder. It was a comfortable position. A familiar one. Harry snuggled up a little, and started counting sheep in his head. 

But no matter how many times he started over, he couldn't seem to get past thirty-one. 


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, July 23, 1998 ---- 8:22 p.m.**

Harry sighed a little as he tilted the flask in his hand back and forth. "Well, at least this one doesn't look mildewed. Do I need to drink all of it?" 

"One good swallow." 

Harry tipped some of the translucent purple liquid into his mouth. He didn't comment on the taste, though he did make a slight face. This time, Severus conjured him some fizzy water without being asked. 

"Thanks," said Harry, wiping his mouth afterwards. "So, what now? Will I get all hot like last time, you think?" 

Words like that could be easily misconstrued, thought Severus, but he didn't crack so much as a smile. This was too serious. "This potion is intended to produce a more generalised effect than the last one." 

" _More_ generalised?" A strand of Harry's fringe wafted up as he blew out a breath. "I thought I was going to burn up. I was hot all over--" 

"I meant in terms of the sexual effect." Severus folded his hands together, trying to look as composed as he ought to feel. No point in getting Harry worried that this potion might fail just as readily as the previous one. "The last potion worked primarily on your cock. This one should help you desire not just orgasm, but . . ." 

"Penetration," Harry finished for him, scowling. "Well, so far it's not helping me desire anything at all." 

"It requires sexual cues. Shall we?" He waved a hand toward the bedroom, where he'd already turned the bedcovers down in invitation. 

Harry got undressed without much hesitation, which Severus found heartening despite the gravity of their situation. While Harry took off his clothes, Severus lit several candles and extinguished the other lights, then conjured some instruments to play something with a warm, subtle rhythm. 

His own clothes quickly discarded, Severus stretched out on the bed with Harry and plucked the young man's glasses off before nudging him to lie face down. A summoning charm brought the salve he'd also prepared for this evening. Strictly speaking, it wasn't magical, but it was designed to be used with the potion Harry had taken. 

"A backrub?" Harry chuckled a bit, though the sound was strained. "And candles and all? You know, this isn't exactly a situation where you have to wine and dine me, Severus. I'd rather just get right to it." 

"I am getting to it." Sitting up, Severus slicked his palms and began massaging Harry's shoulder blades. He'd much rather have straddled the young man, but trust or no, he knew Harry couldn't tolerate being held down. This position was awkward, but it would have to do. 

"Oh, that's nice," said Harry after a moment. His voice was slightly slurred. "Feels like I'm turning into water, sort of." 

"Mmm." Severus steadily worked his way down. 

"All melty . . ." By then, Harry's voice sounded like he was lost in a dream. "Oooh." 

Severus didn't want to shock Harry from his relaxed state, so he skipped the young man's enticing arse cheeks and moved down to his thighs. Harry tensed slightly even at that, but didn't otherwise object. 

Down and down Severus made his way, until Harry had been massaged to the ankles. By then, Harry was writhing ever so slightly on the sheets. Not exactly humping them, but the motion was encouraging, all the same. 

"On your back, then," Severus softly said, a bit amused when Harry flipped over quite eagerly. "Part your legs." 

Harry's cock was hard by then, though from what Severus could see, not painfully so. Not yet. 

Severus slipped down the bed, and moved to lay between Harry's legs, his head just at cock level. 

"Oh," said Harry, panting. "Yeah. You're going to--" 

Instead of answering, Severus moved a hand to Harry's cock, angled him upward, and took a long, slow lick. 

Harry's fingers splayed out against the covers. "Oh- Oh- Mmm-" 

Severus didn't tease him for long. Taking Harry in his mouth, he began bobbing his head up and down on the young man's hard cock, savouring the slightly salty taste. 

Harry continued to make incoherent noises, at one point arching upwards slightly as he grabbed Severus' head and tried to move it in a slightly different rhythm. Severus liked that, even if his hair was getting pulled. _Harry leading._ That used to work quite well for them . . . 

Severus shrugged off the hands, though, when it seemed that Harry was about to come. No, Severus had to take charge now. Harry was lost in sensation, mindless, nothing but a yawning chasm of need. And this time, it should extend beyond his cock. His arse should be feeling it as well. 

Sucking lightly, just enough to keep Harry on the edge of a climax, Severus reached out for the salve with one hand, and dipped his fingers into the open pot he'd left nearby on the bed. He began by massaging Harry's balls with it, pleased when Harry grunted and thrust his cock more deeply into Severus' throat. Then lower . . . a swipe or two against the taut skin behind Harry's balls. Then lower still, until Severus' finger was slipping into Harry's cleft. 

Harry yanked his hips sharply up again, but this time, there was nothing passionate about it. He was simply trying to get away, the motion a reflex born of panic. Severus recognised that the moment he heard the noises Harry was making now. 

"No-- ow, _ow!_ " 

Severus moved his hand away and making hushing noises, resumed the blowjob for a few minutes. Harry's panic subsided, but it flared to life again straight away the moment Severus' hand came near his arse. After a few more repetitions, he wasn't even able to tolerate his balls being touched at all. 

But the potion wouldn't allow his arousal to fade, even so. By the end, Harry was gasping and writhing and screaming, all of it with equal parts need and rejection. Severus hated it. What he was doing to Harry was akin to sexual torment. It wasn't very enjoyable for either of them. 

Since his plan obviously wasn't going to work out, Severus moved his hands completely away from Harry's body and simply finished him off, giving him the most mind-shattering blowjob he could manage. It wouldn't make up for the past hour of pushing Harry too far, over and over, but it was all he could think to do. 

Harry's come, when it spurted onto his tongue, was thick and bitter. After-effect of the potion. Severus knew that, but he thought it tasted of defeat, all the same. 

For a moment, Harry lay motionless. Then he sat up and ran his hands through his hair. "That was . . ." 

Severus sat up listlessly. "What?" 

"Painful, actually. When I came, I mean." Harry swallowed. "So are you going to brew another variant?" 

"Arousal potions mustn't be over-used. There are side effects." Impotence among them, but Severus wasn't going to mention specifics. "Milder potions can be used for longer periods, but in your case, I don't think they would yield any useful results." 

"We only have a week left, Severus--" 

"I'm aware of the passage of time, thank you!" 

Harry's expression changed completely. "Oh . . . um, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about what that must have been like for you. Do you want, should I . . ." A vague gesture of his hands indicated Severus' cock. 

Only half-hard now, and no wonder. This wasn't exactly Severus' idea of a perfect evening with his lover. Of course, Harry could probably work him back into a froth, if Severus just relaxed and let a hand job happen. 

"Do you want to?" 

"Sure," said Harry in a voice that was both strained and too bright. "I mean, you did do me--" 

Severus shot to his feet and grabbing his wand, summoned a dressing gown. He spoke as he shrugged it on. "Making love isn't some sort of tit-for-tat, Harry. You aren't like-- you aren't under some sort of obligation." 

"I can't not be," said Harry calmly, tilting his face up. "I'm supposed to please you. In bed especially. I know that. Look, the other's awful but I'm positive I can manage a hand job all right." 

"I don't want you to _manage_ to touch me," said Severus, practically snarling. Some part of him wasn't sure why he was so upset. He'd paid for his pleasures plenty of times, knowing full well that the whores he bought for an hour or a night didn't really want him. But somehow, he could hardly stand the same attitude when it came from Harry. 

Not for the first time, Severus wanted to curse the day he'd woken up and realised that he actually cared about Harry. If he could just stop caring, this would be so much simpler. He'd just take the hand job and go to sleep smiling. Instead, he was filled with a frustration that was mental as much as physical. 

"Why don't you give yourself a hand job," he said in a hard tone. "Maybe that's the problem. You need to get back to normal, and that's part of it." 

"I can't get properly hard without a potion!" 

Severus' nostrils flared. "Then try _harder_ , Harry. Literally. Or do you want to fall prey to the Dark Lord's attack a week from now?" 

"I want you to use _Compulsio!_ " said Harry, shouting now. "I told you this daft potion idea would be useless, but I went along because you said to. Twice now, and it's no good! Look, you can dose me with something to make me enjoy the cock part of it, and also use _Compulsio_ , and let's just get past it. All right?" 

"I just told you, a milder potion won't work on you, not the least because you've recently been exposed to Dragon's Happy! Twice exposed, that is! We'd have more options if you hadn't been such an imbecile!" 

Harry bared his teeth. "Nothing I can do about it now, you know. So, getting back to what matters, Severus, if you don't want to force me, why don't you knock me out, already, and do it when I'm out cold? I don't _need_ to enjoy it, right? This isn't like crossing powers. I just need your spunk up my arse. For all I know, you could whack off on your own and then syringe it into me or something--" 

Severus had heard enough. Merlin knew he hadn't always been terribly selective about his choice of sexual partners, but he drew the line at fucking an unconscious body. He could hardly believe Harry would suggest it, but perhaps he didn't really understand how horrid that would be for the man on top. "This isn't Muggle chemistry we're dealing with. It's Sex Magic, and difficult as it may be for your adolescent brain to absorb, it requires actual sex!" 

"Like you're so brilliant. Solved our problem already, have you? I'm _so_ relieved!" Harry pulled the covers up over him and flopped onto the pillows piled against the headboard. "All right, so it has to be real sex. And I probably have to be conscious. Shite. Well, then that leaves _Compulsio._ I swear to God, Severus, I won't hate you afterwards, if that's what's bothering you." 

"You might find it difficult not to," said Severus slowly. "Considering." 

"No, I won't, all right? I mean, I won't be a complete prat and whinge on, or compare you to them, or _anything_. I swear." Harry's voice became small and pleading. "Please, Severus. It's the only thing left. I really, really don't want to die, or leave everybody in the lurch, or--" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "I _need_ you." 

How much Severus would have given to hear those words in another tone, another context. 

As it was, much as he hated it, he was forced to admit that Harry was right. They were out of better options. He was going to have to force Harry. Though was it really force when Harry had agreed, had begged him for that very thing? 

Voluntary involuntary sex. Just thinking about it made him feel ill inside. 

"Please," Harry said again. " _Please._ " 

Severus closed his eyes, feeling cold all the way through. "Yes. I will," he said, his voice flat. He'd wanted things to be different. Better. But he should have known that there would be no way around this. "Tomorrow. I can't think it wise to cast _Compulsio_ on top of that potion. By tomorrow you'll be clear of it." 

Harry nodded. He looked like he was suddenly scared and trying his best to be brave. His Gryffindor best. Severus almost sighed. He'd ended up with a Gryffindor. 

"So, come to bed?" Harry's voice was plaintive. 

"Go ahead and sleep." Severus found his slippers and walked to the door. "I'm not in the right frame of mind to drop off." 

"I could stay up and keep you company--" 

"Harry . . . I need to be alone." 

Severus closed the door behind him, then went out to the parlour. A fire was still burning in his Floo. He sat and stared at the flames for what felt like forever. 

When he went in to bed at last, Harry was still awake. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, July 24, 1998 ---- 7:16 p.m.**

Harry sighed as he speared a runner bean and lifted it to his mouth. 

From across the table, Severus shot him a glance. "There's no need to do this tonight, you realise. It's hardly the eve of the thirty-first." 

Harry put his fork down, giving up on eating. He hadn't managed to choke down much at lunch, either. Dobby had packed sandwiches for his hike, but Harry had ended up tossing them into the lake. Well, at least the squid had enjoyed them. Harry could have sworn he'd even heard a bubbly burp. 

"I thought of that," he said now to Severus. "But I'd just rather, you know? If something else goes wrong it's better to have a few days to set it right." 

"Nothing will go wrong this time." 

Harry took that to mean that Severus wouldn't back out again. "Good. But I'd still feel better knowing I'm ready for my birthday." He sat back and looked the other man in the eye. "I probably should have asked this a lot sooner, but . . . do you have any idea what sort of attack I should be expecting?" 

He didn't realise he'd lifted his fingers to his scar until Severus reached across the small table and pulled his hand away. 

"The Dark Lord can be quite unpredictable." A wry expression wrinkled Severus' forehead. "Precisely why I thought it best to continue spying. As things stand, we simply have to wait and see." 

"The Order doesn't have anyone else--" 

"No." 

"The headmaster's had weeks--" 

"Efforts to penetrate the inner circle have been less than successful." 

"Yeah, I knew that, I guess." Harry shuddered. "I just hope nobody's died trying, or anything." When he glanced up, Severus' expression was carefully blank, which was answer enough for Harry. Not that he wanted to talk about it. He shoved off from the table and headed into the bedroom. He had to do something about the coming reign of destruction, and this was all there was. 

Once he was looking at the bed, though, he realised something else that he should have thought of before. His fingers stilled on his shirt buttons. 

"Let's go upstairs for this," he said thickly. "I mean, I sleep here every night. That other bed's just for show, mostly. I have to . . . learn to enjoy sex again. You know, later on, when I maybe can. I'd rather leave any bad memories up there, in that other bed." 

"That's fine," said Severus, his voice pitched calm. "Perhaps we should take advantage of good memories now, Harry. We could take a warm bath together and begin with some touching." 

"Uh, no." Harry shifted on his feet. "Look, I appreciate your trying to make it nice, but it's not going to be, all right? All that would do is make me remember . . . awful things, every time I take a bath. If I get a say at all, I'd just rather get to it. Get past it." 

He was a bit surprised to feel himself pulled into an embrace. But it felt good, so he let himself be held. 

"Of course you get a say," Severus said against his hair, his hands rubbing slow circles low on Harry's back. "I don't think of you as my slave, Harry. And I'd never force you into doing something like this, if it weren't for that prophecy." 

Weird. It sounded to Harry like Severus needed reassuring. He didn't really understand that. After all, both of them knew what they were up against. Both of them knew there wasn't any choice. But still . . . "I know," Harry said, stepping back and tilting his face up. "I trust you. If I didn't, there'd be no hope for me. We wouldn't have been able to invoke. And you know, I don't think of myself as a slave, either. Or, not very often, I mean." 

Severus nodded. "Well then, you go up and I'll come through in a short while." 

Harry tried to look more confident than he felt as he walked through the magic doorway. 

Once he was upstairs, he thought he should make this as easy as possible on Severus, who really did seem a bit rattled by what he had to do. Harry couldn't help but feel bad about that, which was a little strange. Shouldn't he be a lot more worried about himself at the moment, knowing what was coming? But he wasn't. He knew it would be horrible and for a while he'd probably want to die, but he also knew that he'd get through it. After all, he'd survived a lot worse. 

And afterwards, at least he wouldn't still feel a yawning sense of death hanging over him. However bad the attack on his birthday was, he knew he'd survive it. He just had to get that little piece of Voldemort's power into him. Too bad it came bound in semen. 

Harry shrugged out of his clothes and dropped them carelessly on the floor, then climbed into bed naked. The sheets felt crisp and cool against his bare back. But then, they hadn't been properly slept in since before the invocation. And they weren't getting slept in tonight, either. As soon as it was done, Harry planned to go back to the dungeons to sleep. 

Severus' hair looked a bit damp when he entered the room a minute or two later. It looked as though he'd just showered, which would explain why he was wearing a bathrobe. Nothing but a bathrobe, Harry found out when it fell to the floor. Severus had his wand and a jar of thick opaque lubricant in his hands. 

"Spells alone aren't enough?" asked Harry nervously as the other man slid into bed with him. Huh. This bed was a little smaller than the one in the dungeons. It made for close quarters. 

"I'd rather be prepared." Severus leaned over him, his hair brushing Harry's shoulders. It _had_ just been washed, Harry realised. He could smell a faint scent that he recognised as the elf-made shampoo. The smell grew stronger when Severus began to kiss him. 

Truth be told, Harry would rather have skipped kissing first. But the shampoo had told him something. Severus was upset to have to be doing this. He didn't want it to show, so he'd used something that would have a slight relaxing effect. He didn't want to force Harry; he wanted to pretend, perhaps, that they'd got past all this and were actually making love. 

Harry didn't need to kiss first for it to all be all right, but maybe Severus needed that. So Harry opened his mouth and kissed Severus back, and didn't object when he began to feel the other man's hands skimming along his chest and ribs and thighs. Nor even when in the middle of a kiss, he felt his cock caught in that hand and gently teased. 

No arousal now, not one bit. Harry would have got hard if he could, since he thought that would make Severus feel better. But he couldn't. Not tonight, knowing what was coming next. He could face it down and get through it, but he couldn't possibly enjoy any part of it, not even the kissing that came first. 

"Sorry," Harry whispered when Severus broke off the kiss. "I know you'd rather it be good . . ." 

"Shh," said Severus, laying a finger across his lips. "You've nothing to be sorry for. Are you ready?" 

_Are you?_ That was what Harry thought he should ask, but since he didn't want to suffer through any more preliminaries, he just rolled onto his side, away from Severus, and angled his top leg forward, the way Severus had positioned him before. "Ready." 

He heard some rustling noises, then felt a waft of magic begin to gather force behind him. Even before he heard the word, he knew the spell was being cast. 

" _Compulsio_." 

A new sensation filled him, the same one he'd felt last time. The same as he'd felt weeks ago when they'd first tested the spell. It wasn't mindlessness. He wasn't becoming a brainless puppet dancing to someone else's tune. He knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. But as the force of sheer compulsion soaked through his skin and into his muscles, he knew he'd be obeying anything Severus wanted. Muscles, reacting as they'd been told. But not emotion and not sensation. Those weren't subject to Severus' command. 

Harry wished they were. 

"Relax," said Severus, stroking a hand across Harry's back and buttocks. "Don't fight what I do. Leave your reflexes aside." 

Harry felt the magic penetrate his muscles then, everywhere Severus was touching. His jaw was still clenched, though, which told him well enough that whatever else it was, _Compulsio_ was fine-tuned magic. It read intent, and Severus had been talking about the parts he'd been touching. 

Those parts, of course, were doing exactly as Severus had commanded. Harry's arse cheeks went slack. Tension drained from his lower back, and then his thighs. His body sank into the mattress slightly. 

But his arms and chest were still knotted with stress. His stomach was clenching until it really hurt. 

_It's not them,_ he said to himself as he heard Severus casting lubrication spells. _They didn't use anything to help me. They wanted it to hurt. Severus wants it to be all right. As much as it can be._

Which wasn't much, Harry thought bleakly. 

Noise of a jar being uncapped, and then another scent. Severus put one hand on Harry's side, but other than that, didn't seem to be doing much. Why couldn't he just get this over with? Frustrated, Harry arched his neck and back to look behind him. 

Oh. Snape wasn't hard yet. He was getting there, though, as he steadily pumped himself with a salve-slicked hand. 

Harry quickly yanked himself back to face the wall. He didn't want to see, didn't want to be reminded just how much length and girth he was going to have to endure. It was bad enough that he was going to have to put up with being carefully stretched beforehand. 

"This time I added a bit of a numbing effect to the lubricating spells," said Severus, almost as if he'd just read Harry's mind. But then again, his mind wouldn't be too hard to read at the moment, would it? He was trying not to shake, but even he could tell what a failure the effort was. 

"Thanks," he managed to croak. 

"I can't remove sensation entirely, unfortunately. Not with Sex Magic at play--" 

"Severus, just _start_ already." It wasn't Harry's fault if the words sounded thin with fear. 

He clawed the sheets when Severus did, his slick fingers sliding over Harry's arse as if appreciating it. Then up and down his cleft, that hand burrowing its way toward Harry's entrance, his other hand nudging Harry's upper leg over further. Under the force of _Compulsio_ , Harry had no way to resist. He felt his arse cheeks splaying more as he shifted his leg and rolled forward slightly. 

And then, Snape did begin, his fingers starting to part Harry's cheeks in earnest. 

Harry gasped as he felt something resting against his entrance. 

Snape kissed him on the shoulder, but then, he pushed that finger inside. 

Pressure, that was what Harry felt. A horrible pressure that reminded him of things best forgotten. A pressure that promised more to come. 

"Good, that's right, stay relaxed," said Snape softly against his ear. 

_Don't have much choice,_ Harry almost said, but he knew it would be terribly unfair to Severus. Harry had asked for the spell. Begged for it. "Go fast," he said instead. 

"As much as I can." 

Harry blinked as a second finger pushed inside him and began to move back and forth. Stretching him, spreading him. So he wouldn't be hurt when the time came. 

"No," moaned Harry in desperation, visions of another upstairs room flashing across his mind. Oh God, how could he bear this? He had to; that was the only way. And he didn't want to hear himself begging for Snape to stop. That would be humiliating. And hurtful to Severus. "Silence me," he said as he exhaled. "Please--" 

"Be silent, Harry," said Snape in a smooth, even voice. 

Harry nodded his thanks, even as those fingers kept at him. A terrible irony, that he'd accused Severus of wanting to shut him up using the spell, when in the end it was Harry who had wanted that. 

He felt slightly better now that he knew he couldn't talk. 

Snape kept talking, though, his low voice like a calming draught. The man did have a wonderful voice, Harry thought to himself. He tried to focus on the sound of it, tried his best not to feel it when a third finger pushed inside him and Snape rotated his wrist. That burned, but thanks to the numbing agent, the pain seemed a little bit distant. 

Back and forth, back and forth, deeper inside him those fingers moved. Harry grabbed hold of the sheets, his whole upper body held taut and tense while below the waist he was loose and relaxed. Inside and out, thanks to Snape's ministrations. He hurt from clenching his stomach muscles for so long, but that was better, he supposed, than lying here like a rag doll from head to toe. That would be too much like being trapped, as he'd been trapped in that upper room. 

Though being out cold would be have been better still, he thought. He would have held his breath to try to lose consciousness, except he thought the Sex Magic might not take in that case. He held his breath anyway, but let it out and drew in fresh air every so often. 

Behind him, Severus shifted, those fingers wetly withdrawing from his arse. Something blunter replaced them, something larger but just as wet. 

_No,_ Harry tried to scream, but the word got lost somewhere in his throat. 

His body didn't understand that it couldn't scream, though. A long exhale of tortured breath shot through his teeth, leaving his throat feeling flayed. 

_It's Severus,_ he told himself frantically. _It's Severus this time, and he won't hurt you, and it'll be over quickly--_

But Severus did hurt him. As stretched as Harry had been beforehand, nothing could have prepared him for the feel of Snape's cock gaining entrance to his body. It stung, the burn something low and deep and lasting. Harry jerked where he lay, and began breathing through his mouth as panic swept him. He flailed his arms, trying to adjust, trying to accept. But he didn't try to throw Severus off, much as he longed to. The spell wouldn't let him. 

The voice again. He heard the voice. He had a feeling that Severus had never stopped speaking, really, though Harry couldn't remember anything he'd said. He tried to let the voice anchor him in the present. He was in Hogwarts. In the room Severus had provided for him. And it was Severus doing these things. Severus, being careful. 

Even so, when Harry felt that cock push deeper inside him, he convulsed. This was horrible, horrible. Every second of it. He starting hearing mocking voices. Two of them, those men with their hands all over him. Slaps against his hips as the thrusting went on-- 

But none of that was _real_ , Harry frantically told himself. He was with Severus. For good. Forever, and those two were dead at Severus' hand. 

Breathing harshly, his stomach twisting, Harry tried to focus on Severus' voice again. But it was gone, now. The only sound in the room was another set of harsh breaths as Severus plunged in and out, seeking his pleasure inside Harry's body. The feel of it was awful, numbing potion or no. And the noises Severus was making . . . dreadful. Grunts, more like, his whole body hot and sweaty, rubbing against him, just like those others-- 

_No. Don't think about the others._

The arm wrapped around his chest suddenly went taut, embracing him more tightly than before. And then Harry felt it. The body behind him stiffening, the hips jerking spasmodically. No more smooth in-and-out, now. Severus was coming, hard and fast, his cock pulsing with it. 

Harry shuddered, and bit his lip, and waited. 

And then finally it was over, Severus letting go of him and moving slightly backwards as he pulled out slowly. Harry felt dead inside, somehow. Despite the fact that he could keenly feel every inch of that withdrawal. 

" _Finite Incantatem,_ " said Severus, his voice ragged. Both his hands settled on Harry's shoulder to nudge him onto his back. "Are you all right?" 

Harry had to clear his throat before he could speak. Even then, his vocal cords felt raw, just as if he'd been screaming for hours. "Yeah." 

Wanting to prove it, he sat straight up. _Ouch._ That was a mistake. He hadn't realised he'd be quite so sore afterwards. Severus obviously had, though. He reached over for his bathrobe and fished a small vial from a pocket, gesturing for Harry to drink the contents. 

Afterwards, Harry's arse felt much better, but the rest of him felt the same. Dead. Cold. But that wasn't Severus' fault, so he didn't mention it. No sense in whingeing on. What was done was done. Not that there'd been any real choice. 

Scrambling out of bed, he grabbed a dressing gown from his wardrobe and rushed through the magic doorway. No matter that it was probably pretty rude to just leave like that. He couldn't help it. He couldn't stand that room, not for one instant more. He wanted to be in the dungeons. 

With a bitter laugh, he wondered if he was going to turn into a recluse like Severus. 

But no, that wasn't quite right. Severus seemed to like Harry's company well enough, even if it had been forced on him by spell and prophecy. 

As soon as he crossed into the dank cool of Severus' quarters, the knots in Harry's stomach abruptly began to unwind. It should have felt good. Instead, the sudden release of tension was more than his body could withstand. A horrible feeling rushed into his gut. 

Harry barely made it to the loo in time. 

Bent over the toilet, he vomited up everything he'd eaten in the last day. Thank goodness it wasn't very much. Afterwards, he sat slumped on the floor, leaning against the toilet as he stared at the door he'd kicked closed behind him as he'd rushed inside. Severus hadn't heard him, had he? He might even still be upstairs. And if he wasn't, well, he'd have rushed in, right? To make sure Harry was all right? 

It took a few minutes more before Harry felt like dragging himself to the basin for a wash. Not wanting Severus to know he'd actually been ill, Harry brushed his teeth and used mouthwash besides. Then he walked on shaky legs to the bathroom door. 

Severus was waiting on the other side of it, leaning against the wall as though he'd been there a while. He was wearing pyjama bottoms, no sign of the bathrobe he'd had on earlier. 

Harry didn't know what to say. "I . . . I . . ." 

"You don't have to explain." Severus pressed a tiny vial into Harry's palm. "You'll be wanting another of these, I imagine." 

He was right; the ache in Harry's backside had returned, though against everything else, he'd hardly noticed. The potion helped, though. 

"What now?" asked Harry dully. 

Severus steered him toward the bed. "I think rest would be the best thing to settle your stomach. Would you like some Dreamless Sleep?" 

"Uh . . . no, I won't have nightmares if I'm with you." 

Severus' hand smoothed Harry's hair down as he tucked him under the covers. "I'm afraid that now, you might." 

"No, honest," said Harry. He could tell Severus was worried. That was awful, considering. Wanting to help Severus had the odd effect of cheering Harry, just a bit. Feeling less lethargic, he rolled toward the other man. "I told you I'd never hold it against you. And I won't. I swear. Not even here." Harry tapped his temple, though he had no idea if that was where dreams came from. He couldn't help but sigh. "So we've done it. I guess now there's nothing to do but wait. Like you said." 

Severus sat down on the bed beside him. "Brooding about the thirty-first isn't what either one of us needs. How about another trip?" 

"Disneyland. Or world. Whichever one's in Florida." 

"I told you, we can't--" 

"I know." Harry thought for a minute. "Let's go to . . . uh, maybe where it all began, you know? Rome." 

"The spell binding us didn't begin there, but if you want to see Rome I see no reason not to." Severus brushed Harry's fringe off his forehead. "Just promise me you won't purchase some monstrosity like a miniature Coliseum complete with animated gladiators." 

"Hey, if I want more tourist trash, I think I'm entitled." 

"You are." Severus didn't say anything more. He just kept staring down at Harry. 

"I'm not going to sick up again, if that's why you're acting like I need a medi-witch," Harry finally told him. 

Severus started slightly. "That's not why. I just . . . I'll go, if I'm bothering you." 

Harry shook his head. "I am all right, you know. It was bad, but I'm pretty strong. I'm just tired now." He yawned. "Climb in with me. Better than a dream catcher, you are." 

Severus slid between the sheets, lying on his back. "I don't know what you mean." 

"Oh, heard about them on the radio one summer," murmured Harry as he moved over to sleep as they usually did, his head on Severus' shoulder. "Radio Four. Indian thing, America, they catch bad dreams so you don't have nightmares . . . Sounded like Muggle magic. Incredible, really . . ." 

The pain potion probably had something in it to make him this tired, Harry thought as he felt a tide of exhaustion begin to pull him under. Just like Severus not to mention it, but Harry didn't really care. Sleep sounded good. 

"You're incredible," he thought he heard the other man say, but by then he was so tired that he thought he must have imagined it. Yeah, definitely. Severus wouldn't say _that,_ no matter. 

Not about him. 

  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, July 31, 1998 ---- 9:14 a.m.**

"I kind of thought it would start before breakfast," said Harry as he looked doubtfully at a banger. "I mean, it seems like I ought to be standing guard, or . . . I don't know." 

Severus speared the banger and transferred it to Harry's plate. Ever since they'd used _Compulsio_ , Harry hadn't been eating enough. Not even the creamy, smoky polenta in Rome three days ago, or the handmade pasta they'd had as a first course yesterday evening, had been enough to tempt his appetite. "There's no guarantee that the Dark Lord's attack will involve the castle, you realise." 

"Yeah," said Harry, rubbing his scar. "I thought of that. I was surprised it didn't start burning at midnight, actually." 

"That's taking the prophecy a bit literally." 

Harry ignored the banger, but at least he started eating his eggs. "Oh, well I'm just used to waiting up for my birthday to start. The Dursleys didn't celebrate it, see. So I got used to having my own celebration late at night when they wouldn't be up to yell at me to clean the loo, or something." 

"Ah. That reminds me." Severus quickly fetched a wrapped box from a cabinet in the sitting room, and going back to Harry, extended it. 

Harry looked a little taken aback. "I wasn't hinting." 

Severus sat down again, pushing the package across the table. "The way you eagerly opened the cards and gifts that already came, I'm surprised you aren't more excited." 

"I was just glad my friends hadn't forgotten me," murmured Harry. "I didn't think I could get post from anyone except Hermione. I mean, she's the only one who knows where I really am." 

"Albus is redirecting your mail." 

"Isn't that sort of dangerous? V. . . the Dark Lord might detect the spell and figure out I'm here!" 

Severus shrugged. "The presumption would be that Albus is holding your mail until September, since your new position has already been approved." He paused for a moment. "Don't you want your present?" 

Harry finally pulled the wrapped box towards him. "I want it. I just . . . you didn't have to, you know." 

"What sort of lover would neglect your birthday?" 

Harry's glance at that was a bit wry. "Well, it's not like I've been a very good lover, is it? I can't-- and I know you didn't even much like it when-- fuck. I can't even talk about it." 

Severus knew that, which is why he was determined, this time, to give Harry just as long as he needed. Their trips to Rome--three in all in the last few days--hadn't been like the ones to Venice and Paris. No stolen kisses. No holding hands. Nothing that might pressure Harry. As much as Severus wanted him, he couldn't push, not after what he'd had to make Harry do. 

At least this time there was no deadline looming over them, just the vague promise that with crossed powers would come a way to defeat the Dark Lord. But that could wait until Harry was ready to try crossing their powers. The fact that it would take mutually satisfying sex--Harry willing and eager to please Severus in bed--meant that there was no point in rushing matters. _Compulsio . . ._ that had been necessary. But the rest of what they had to do couldn't be forced. 

And Severus wouldn't want Harry that way, anyway. 

"Things will get better," he said, resisting an urge to reach out and clasp Harry's fingers. 

Nodding, his eyes announcing that he'd just as soon drop the topic, Harry tore the gold wrapping paper away and lifted off the top of the box. "Oh . . ." He looked a little dazed as he drew out a dark brown robe. A bit more formal than a student's robe, it fell in clean lines from collar to hem. 

"For teaching. You're young to be taking charge of students. Looking the part will help." 

"I guess you'd know." Harry stood up, smiling as he swept the robe on. "But I'm not really going to be teaching. Just assisting, you know." 

"Unless the new professor is a complete imbecile, he'll have his assistant do more than stand about--" Severus stopped at the look Harry was giving him. _Imbeciles? Oh, we've never had any imbeciles teaching Defence at Hogwarts . . . _"Point taken." 

Harry laughed a little. "Albus and I finalised the interview list a couple of days ago. There might be one or two candidates worth talking with." He turned a little, then drew his wand and pretended to cast a couple of spells. "Oh, this robe is very nice. Thank you." 

"Yes, you look quite well in it. I wasn't sure it would fit, given that I had to guess a bit at your measurements." 

"You didn't keep the ones from Norway?" 

Severus couldn't keep a slight smile from curling his lips. "You didn't believe me when I said you'd grown taller?" Not just that, but all those walks had had an impact. Not to mention the amount of flying Harry had been doing. If Harry had been exquisite before . . . but Severus tried not to think about that. 

Harry was staring at the Hogwarts crest sewn onto the robe. "Huh. Hard to believe I'm staff now." He made a face as his fingers slid across the snake on the top right. "I sort of thought I'd still have a Gryffindor crest, I guess." 

Severus shook his head. "No. You can't be partisan--" 

"Oh, right, like _some teachers aren't partisan._ " 

Severus supposed he should have expected that. "Being head of house is a bit different," he said stiffly. 

"Sure." 

It wasn't a day for arguments, Severus thought. There was no telling what they might face later. "Well. Happy birthday, at any rate. Is there something special you'd like to do?" 

"Yeah, I'd like a time-turner so I can skip ahead to tomorrow." Shrugging off the new robe, Harry neatly folded it back into the box, then raised a hand to his scar again. "It kind of hurts, but I think it's from me rubbing it so much. I just keep expecting . . . something. Are you sure we can't just pop over to Rome again, or somewhere else?" 

Severus sighed. "We've been over this, Harry. Whatever happens, you're safest here." 

"Yeah, I know." Harry sighed as well. "I just wish I _felt_ differently, you know? I mean, we did . . . it, and I should be protected now, I guess, but I wish I knew for sure. Shouldn't there have been a blast of light, or I saw stars, or something, so I'd know you really did manage to transfer that little bit of his power into me?" Harry flopped into his chair and glanced up, his eyes troubled. "You didn't even say a spell or anything. Are you sure it worked?" 

"Of course it worked. _Cambiare Podentes_ was all that was needed to break the previous binding. It's stronger than anything the Dark Lord ever cast on me." 

"But when he did cast it, did you . . . er . . ." 

"See stars? Hardly. I told you I did it for the power." 

Harry grimaced. "I try not to think about it, you know. You and him." Jumping to his feet again, the young man scooped up his present. "I guess I'll go put this upstairs and then head out for some fresh air. I won't go far, though. Not today." 

Severus had been going to suggest they do something together, but with both of them on edge, perhaps this was better. He didn't want to fight with Harry. Besides, he was heartened to see the other man mention the upstairs rooms. Harry had been avoiding them, even going so far as to walk down to the dungeons rather than take a short-cut through the magic doorway, but at least he wasn't getting obsessive about the matter. 

"I'll be in my classroom office. Floo if you need anything, Harry." 

Harry nodded before he left. 

Severus banished away the wrapping paper, along with Harry's half-eaten breakfast. Once in his office, it was hard to concentrate on the rosters of incoming students. It was a game of his, to study the lists Albus sent to each head of house, and try to predict who might be sorted into Slytherin. He remembered that day years ago when he'd seen _Harry Potter_ scratched across a sheet of parchment. _Gryffindor,_ he'd thought, huffing a little. 

Today, though, the rosters held no interest for him. He'd tried not to show it at breakfast, but inside, he was just as tense as Harry. When _would_ the Dark Lord's attack come? And what form might it take? Severus wished he knew, but that was the trouble with prophecy. You could never quite tell what to expect. 

An elf popped into his office with a load of post in his hands. Thankful for the distraction, Severus began looking through the letters and bundles. Ah, the latest edition of _Potions Quarterly_. Excellent. 

A good bit of the rest was for Harry. More birthday wishes, no doubt. "Deliver all this down to my quarters," said Severus, thrusting most of the post back at the elf. Perhaps the letters and gifts would cheer Harry. The young man was being his usual brave self, but Severus could tell how very worried Harry was getting. Every hour that passed without incident was only making Harry all the more jittery and upset. 

Severus wasn't the only one who would be grateful for a distraction. 

As soon as the elf vanished, post in hand, Severus opened his journal and tried to lose himself in thoughts of bobotubers. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, July 31, 1998 ---- 1:10 p.m.**

Harry wasn't terribly hungry, but it was time for lunch, so he headed into the castle and wound his way down to the dungeons. Long walk, but he didn't mind. 

He'd gotten quite a few cards the day before, along with a Chudley Cannons hat from Ron and a chocolate rose from Hermione. But he had yet more post now, waiting for him on the small table he and Severus used for meals. 

Grinning, Harry sat down and used the letter-opening spell Severus had shown him. His grin soon faded; Ginny had sent him an over-large card. In it, she'd written a long message about how she hadn't been herself at the end of the year and she was looking forward to seeing Harry again. _And with my new job, she'll see me sooner than she thinks,_ thought Harry, dismayed. Why couldn't she have taken him at his word? He'd told her, plain as day, that she wasn't the one for him. 

Sighing, Harry decided he'd have to make sure the headmaster spoke with her. Otherwise, she was bound to do something inappropriate, like kiss him again. Not good. If Harry felt like kissing someone, he'd seek out Severus. He wasn't allowed to stray; he knew that. 

Of course, he couldn't imagine wanting to. He'd just as soon never have sex again. That time with Severus had been . . . well, terrible. But he didn't blame Severus for that. Harry just wasn't up for sex, that was all. He probably never would be. 

But even if he was, he wouldn't want to go kissing Ginny. 

The next card was a simple one from Neville, with a note that he was enjoying his summer working in the wizarding section of Kew Gardens. Harry smiled just imagining that, and grinned at the small packet of seeds tucked away in the card. Only Neville. 

And then there was a largish package from Fred and George. Harry almost didn't open that one. You could never tell what bizarre new tricks they might decide to test on you. In the end, though, his curiosity won out. Harry tore off the plain brown wrapping paper and bracing himself, yanked the flaps of the box up. 

A large jack-in-the-box burst out, swaying as it launched itself at Harry. The noise of Fred and George's laughter echoed in the room, slowly fading away as the jack-in-the-box stopped moving. Harry chuckled a bit. They'd certainly taken him by surprise. 

That was when he noticed the scroll clasped in the jack-in-the-box's hands. Grinning, Harry scooped it up and unrolled it, his eyebrows lifting as he read what the twins wanted to tell him. 

> > _Dear Harry,_
>> 
>> _This comes a year late, and for that we're sorry. We meant to do this for your eighteenth birthday, but the shop just wasn't in good enough shape yet. Been so long, bet you thought we forgot about our silent partner. As if we would do that to a good mate like you!_
>> 
>> _The business has boomed in the last year and we're making money hand over fist, which means we can finally begin to give you a nice, tidy return on your investment. We never could have made a go of the shop without you, so you're entitled to a fair share of all our profits. It's all in the vault we set up for you -- thought you might like to have one just for investment income. Besides, the goblins wouldn't let us put it in your old vault. Anyway, it's all set, and we'll send the key along with Ginny when school starts, and congratulations on the new job!_
>> 
>> _Happy Birthday, Harry!_

Harry shook his head. As far as he was concerned, those thousand Galleons had been a gift, nothing more. He didn't want to be made some kind of partner. He'd never asked for that. 

In fact, he wasn't allowed this income anyway, was he? He had to be dependent on Severus. For everything. 

Sighing, Harry shoved the scroll back into the jack-in-the-box's hands. Why couldn't the twins have left well enough alone? He didn't want people to know that he was a slave, not yet, so it wasn't like he could tell them to give the money to Severus, instead. He could tell them to keep it, he supposed, but he didn't think they'd listen. At the very least they'd want an explanation. 

Severus would know what to do, Harry thought. Maybe there was some way to redirect anything from this new vault into one of Severus' accounts. Sort of like how Harry's wages were technically going to be paid to Severus. Since it didn't look like the other man was coming home for lunch, Harry decided he'd ask him about it over dinner. 

Tapping the table, Harry asked for a sandwich wrapped to go. Once it arrived, he took it outside with him, along with a packet of Neville's seeds, and headed to the greenhouses. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, July 31, 1998 ---- 1:58 p.m.**

_There,_ thought Harry as he finished tamping earth around the last of the seeds. They'd smelled a bit musty, so he wasn't completely sure they'd grow, but if they did bloom into flowers by September, like the card had said, they would make a nice surprise for Professor Sprout. 

Leaving the greenhouse, Harry found a shady spot and unwrapped his sandwich. 

That was when it started. He couldn't feel his own hands shaking, but he noticed that they were. Strange. Maybe he was having a bit of a reaction to the seeds. Now that he thought about it, they'd smelled almost mouldy. 

Harry breathed the fresh air in deeply, thinking it a good thing that he hadn't lingered over the planting. Maybe food would help, too. Struggling a bit, he managed to work his sandwich free. He only got one bite of it, though, before his hands started shaking so badly that the sandwich fell from his fingers. 

Harry left it where it was, and heaved himself to his feet. Oh God, the shaking was moving up his arms, now, making him look like one of those men who came to repair the streets. The ones using jackhammers. And yet he still couldn't feel a thing. If he closed his eyes he wouldn't know there was anything wrong. It was only by looking at himself that he could tell. 

And that was awful, just awful. Like someone else was in control of his body. 

_Voldemort,_ Harry thought, suddenly consumed with panic. Oh God, that's what this was. The attack was starting, and he was way out by the greenhouses! What had made him think going outdoors was such a good idea? 

Harry broke into a run, his arms jerking in wide arcs by then, waving about like he was some sort of madman. 

By the time he reached the front doors of the castle, the trembling had spread to his chest and neck. He could hardly see to run, what with the way his head was being yanked to and fro. And yet he still couldn't actually feel himself shaking. He just knew he was. 

_Severus_ , he tried to scream. _Dumbledore. Somebody._

That was when he found out that the shaking must be inside, too. He couldn't make his vocal cords force out any sound, couldn't even move his mouth. And then he realised that he couldn't breathe so well, either. Why else would he be so dizzy? He hadn't run _that_ far. 

And he wasn't going to run much farther, he realised with a kind of horror. His legs weren't doing what he wanted any longer. Harry tripped, and when he tried to get up, his legs began shaking too much to hold him. Desperate, he did the only thing he could think of, and flung himself down a flight of stairs, and then another, until his body, jerking spasmodically by then, collided with the entrance to the kitchens. 

_Dobby_ , he tried to call, but the most he could do was try to angle himself so that he collided with the portrait as he thrashed. There was no hope in the world that he'd be able to get to his feet so he could tickle the pear, but if he made enough noise, maybe somebody would hear him out here . . . 

That was Harry's last thought before the room around him started to swim. 

The world went black, and all thought went with it, but still he flailed like a man possessed as he lay alone on the hard granite floor. 

  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, July 31, 1998 ---- 2:12 p.m.**

Severus' head snapped up as a peculiar feeling swam through his mind. Almost like a slow pulse, it seemed to take up residence in the back of his skull and fill his head with a steady rhythm. 

Leading edge of a headache, Severus thought it. Possibly due to the fact that he'd finally got interested enough in his potions journal to forego any sort of lunch. Grimacing a bit, Severus stood and stretched. He could easily ask for a meal to be served in his office, but perhaps it was time to see how Harry was faring. 

The moment he thought of Harry, the feeling in Severus' head grew more intense. A throbbing, now. One he could recognise. He'd felt it before, those times when Harry had lied to him. 

_The mind bond . . ._

That didn't make much sense, particularly as Severus knew by then that the mind bond flared to life only when Harry was telling lies directly to him. Lying to anyone else shouldn't cause this answering feeling in Severus' mind. But something was causing it. 

As another pulse of magic echoed inside his skull, Severus' memory shot back to that night when he'd first discovered the mind bond's existence. The night he'd learned that Harry had been raped. Then, the bond had been more than a sensation alerting him to Harry's lies. It had been offering him information. 

Without a second thought, he plunged his consciousness down into the pulse of magic. 

He saw Harry, falling down one staircase after another until he lay thrashing at the entrance to the kitchens. His green eyes were wild, his face flushed, his breathing obviously laboured even as his head was being flung about as though some invisible force were kicking it. 

Severus could only think of one thing. _The attack._

Jumping to his feet, he rushed to the Floo, yanking down powder from the mantle, not caring that in his haste the porcelain bowl containing it fell crashing to the floor. "Hogwarts' kitchens!" he shouted, flinging the powder down. 

Too much powder. Severus careened out of the kitchen fireplace in a manner that rivalled Harry at his clumsiest, actually colliding with one of the long tables the elves used to set out food. The lone occupant of the kitchens, a single elf supervising a knife chopping courgettes, gaped at him wide-eyed, but Severus paid him no mind. 

An instant later, Severus was bursting through the kitchen doorway. Harry lay just on the other side, still thrashing, his hands and face bruised from where he'd banged them into stone. And yet he quite obviously wasn't conscious. His eyes had rolled up into his head, and his mouth was open, gasping, his breathing nothing but a narrow hiss. 

" _Ennervate!_ " 

The spell did no good at all. Ignoring the young man's flailing limbs, Severus snatched Harry up into his arms and dashed back into the kitchens, heading for the Floo. But the mantle there was bare of bowls and the like. 

"Floo powder!" Severus shouted at the elf, who snapped his fingers to send some showering down inside the fireplace. Severus tightened his grip on Harry, trying to keep him from flinging them both into the walls of the Floo, as he yelled, "Infirmary!" 

As they whirled out into the hospital wing, the force of Harry's frenzied struggles knocked Severus off his feet. 

"Albus!" Severus screamed as he snatched Floo powder from the mantle and threw it against the grate. "Get Poppy from Milan! _Now!_ And then come here!" 

When he turned back to Harry, he saw that the young man's struggles were beginning to diminish, his thrashings coming almost sluggishly, now. _Of course._ He was barely breathing. His muscles had used up their store of energy. But Harry was still under attack; he was twitching now, spasmodically, the sight something awful. 

Severus flicked his wand and began summoning things from the storeroom. Awakening potion. Lung-clearance draught. He poured one remedy after another into Harry's unresisting mouth, but none of them helped in the least. Of course, he couldn't get Harry to swallow properly. But still, the trickle of potions making it down his throat should have some effect, surely. 

But they didn't, not against this. 

Harry was still now. Horribly, horribly still, his breathing nothing but a thin rasp, coming at irregular intervals. And then Severus saw that the skin around Harry's mouth was actually acquiring a slight bluish tinge. 

" _No!_ " shouted Severus as he knelt at Harry's side. "You can't die! You're _mine!_ " 

That last came out rather as a roar. 

Throwing his face down to Harry's, Severus thrust a hand beneath the young man's neck and angled his head a little, then covered Harry's lips with his own and blew, hard. When the air just rushed out Harry's nose instead of into his lungs, Severus pinched it with his free hand, and kept on breathing into Harry. 

"Severus! My word, what do you think you're doing?" 

Severus didn't stop to explain to Poppy. 

"It's a Muggle technique," he heard Albus say from behind him. "Harry must be having trouble breathing." 

_Brilliant deduction,_ Severus wanted to sneer, but there was no time for that. He couldn't stop breathing into Harry, not long enough to explain, but between Albus and himself, words weren't needed, were they? 

Struggling to gather his magic and concentrate--Legilimency was much more difficult without eye contact--Severus touched Albus' mind with his own, and showed him what he'd seen before Harry had fallen into this terrible, almost lifeless, stupor. And then he showed Albus his own attempts to treat Harry, his utter failure to make the slightest bit of difference. 

He barely listened as Albus conveyed all this information to the mediwitch. 

"Perhaps something to calm the convulsions if that's what is interfering with his breathing," said Poppy quickly. 

Severus could have cursed. Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that? He'd done everything possible to try to wake Harry up, instead of treating the problem at the root. Though if the Dark Lord was causing these convulsions, there was every chance that he'd found a way to ensure that the usual remedies wouldn't work. 

It certainly seemed that way at first. Poppy elbowed Severus out of the way and poured a muscle relaxant into Harry's mouth, massaging his throat with special spells to persuade him to swallow every drop. And still Harry lay motionless, his lips tinged with a barest hint of blue. Severus breathed into him, several more times, and then Poppy administered more potion. Far too much potion. 

"That dose is nearly lethal--" 

"I know what I'm doing, Severus," snapped Poppy. "Ah, there. You see? His breathing's getting stronger, now." 

Severus was prepared to start breathing into Harry's mouth again, for as long as it took, but he saw that the mediwitch was right. Harry _was_ improving. The blue cast to his lips was fading as he took deeper breaths, his throat no longer sounding like it was fighting the air rushing in. 

Severus sat back on his heels and panted, exhausted. 

Poppy spared him sympathetic glance. "I'll get Mr Potter into a bed. Perhaps you should take one, as well." 

Scowling, Severus pushed to his feet, only to sway. He quickly sat down in the chair Albus summoned for him, and leaned forward to study Harry as he floated down onto a nearby bed. 

Yes, much better. His eyes were no longer rolled up into his head; they were simply closed now. He looked like someone under strong sedation. But that, of course, was what he was. For the moment, at least, the attack appeared to be over. And so now, Severus could try to reason things out. He had to, for if this was only a lull . . . 

Touching his wand to Harry's scar, Severus cast a simple diagnostic spell. What he sensed made him slump in his chair, his wand arm dangling toward the ground. No heat, no pain, no sign whatsoever that the scar had been alive with magic recently. 

A hand settled onto his shoulder. Exhausted, Severus had to look at it before he realised who had come to stand beside him. 

He glanced up at Albus through bleary eyes. "I don't think . . . _this,_ whatever it was, came from the Dark Lord. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or alarmed." 

The headmaster nodded, his blue eyes sombre. "Poppy?" 

She scanned Harry herself before answering, her wand flicking to and fro in the air above her patient. "I've no notion what the root cause of this could be. All I can suggest is that we let the muscle relaxants wear off on their own, and see." 

Severus was less than thrilled with that plan, but since he had nothing better to offer, he sat back in his chair and merely sighed. He didn't notice Poppy's speculative glance until he heard a similar attitude in her voice. "I'll firecall you straight away should I need your potions expertise, Severus." 

By that point, Severus frankly didn't care what conclusions she might draw. "I'm staying here," he said, pulling his chair closer to the bed. Close enough to take Harry's hand in his, and stroke his limp fingers. 

Poppy stared, but then she nodded. "I expect he'll begin to come out of the stupor in about four hours. Can you offer me any additional information, Severus, anything at all?" 

"I found him by the kitchens," Severus murmured. Albus had mentioned that already, hadn't he? Severus couldn't be sure. So much of the past ten minutes was a blur in his head. He tried again to find that thrum of magic in his head, to dive inside it and find out more about what had happened, what had caused this, but the mind bond was dormant, now. 

Severus couldn't call it at will. Perhaps not even Harry could do that. But clearly, danger was among the things that could trigger it. 

"I don't know anything more," Severus finally said, sighing deeply as he clasped Harry's hand. "I suppose there's nothing to do but wait." 

"That's frequently the case, my boy," murmured Albus. "I'll go to see what I might find out, then. There's no telling what a portrait might have noticed." 

Severus absently nodded, barely noticing when both Albus and Poppy drew away to leave him sitting alone with Harry. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, July 31, 1998 ---- 6:32 p.m.**

Albus had returned to say that the portraits had merely seen Harry in convulsions that grew steadily worse over the course of a few scant moments. However, when Harry had ordered lunch, he'd mentioned that he planned to go out to the greenhouses to plant some new seeds he'd gotten as a present. 

Severus had cracked a slight smile. "He must have been talking to that elf he knows." 

"Yes. I've already been out to greenhouses. I found these." Albus had extended a small packet that still contained a few seeds. 

"I'll check them over," Poppy had said at once, but a few moments later she'd announced that there was nothing suspicious about the seeds. 

Severus had checked them as well, but he could find no taint of dark magic about them. 

In the hour that had passed since then, he'd done nothing but stare at Harry, worried that the young man's breathing might slow again at any moment. 

The hand he was holding began to tremble. 

"Poppy," Severus called sharply as he sat up straighter. "Harry?" 

The young man opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. "S-- S-- Severus?" 

Severus squeezed Harry's hand tight to stop its shaking. "How are you feeling?" 

"All-- all-- all--" 

Harry never got to complete the sentence. All at once, the shaking in his hand spread up his arm and into his neck and he began to thrash on the bed, nearly throwing himself out of it. Severus stood and put his hands on Harry's shoulders to keep him from flinging himself to the floor. _Not again,_ he thought, desperate to do something that would end Harry's convulsions. 

But there was only one thing. Poppy hurried over with another draught to relax and sedate him, and as Severus and Albus both struggled to hold Harry still, she got it down him. 

Harry's jerky movements subsided as he relaxed once more into a potion-induced stupor. 

"This is intolerable," muttered Severus, running his hands through his hair. "How long can this go on? And what's _causing_ it?" 

"I wish I knew, my dear boy," said Albus quietly. 

Severus abruptly shoved back his chair. Much as he wanted to sit by Harry again, he needed to be doing something more constructive. He needed to find the cause of what was happening. "I'll be in my quarters," he said, his jaw clenching. "Finding out who sent those seeds. Perhaps there's something we missed, after all." He glared when it looked as though Poppy would object. "I know, I know. They're harmless! But they're the only clue we have." 

His steps unsteady, Severus crossed the room to the cavernous fireplace and let the Floo whirl him down to the dungeons. He found torn paper wrappings and cards on the small table in his reading room, along with a jack-in-the-box, of all things. Harry really did have some idiot friends. 

But it was no friend who had sent those seeds, Severus thought darkly. A clever spell on them, perhaps. Something new the Dark Lord had devised . . . 

The seeds, though, appeared to have come from Neville Longbottom. No, they _had_ come from Longbottom, Severus concluded after thoroughly spelling the envelope. There was no sign that the owl had been intercepted, absolutely no trace of tampering . . . 

Sighing, Severus sat down in the chair Harry had never pushed in, and stared at the mess he'd left of the table. It seemed Poppy was right and the seeds _were_ harmless. Then what? Perhaps the Dark Lord had tainted something else in Harry's post. 

Though really, for the Dark Lord to attack through _letters . . ._ that was decidedly odd. 

A card from the Weasley girl, oozing with affection. Severus' brows drew together when he read it. He hardly wanted her accosting Harry, and it seemed she had thought for little else. Well, that could be swiftly dealt with. She'd leave Harry alone, or she'd leave Hogwarts. Her choice. 

Her letter, along with some others, showed no trace of dark magic or evil intent. Nor did the jack-in-the-box, though Severus truly did feel ridiculous standing up and waving his wand to determine if _it_ had been sent by the Dark Lord. It hadn't. 

A half-curled scroll had rolled to rest against the base of the stupid thing, he saw. No doubt examining one more letter would prove just as fruitless as all else, but Severus had no better idea, so he picked it up. 

A feeling of dread settled into Severus' stomach as he began to scan the short missive. _Silent partner,_ that was his first indication of what was truly happening to Harry. He dropped back into the chair, his mouth firming into a straight line as he read on. _Investment income . . ._

Damn all Weasleys straight to hell! 

Jumping up, Severus quickly reached the Floo in his sitting room and firecalled the infirmary. "Albus," he said, his voice sounding harsher than usual. "It's not the Dark Lord at all. It's . . . I'll explain when I can. But for now I must go to Diagon Alley." 

Albus' blue eyes, dull with strain, lit up slightly. "You've discovered a cure, then!" 

"Yes. No. I-- it's difficult to say for sure," said Severus. "Harry's likely to convulse again as soon as he properly wakes. I'd advise Poppy to keep him sedated until I return. I won't be long. Open the hospital Floo to outside connections, if you would." 

Albus nodded as Severus drew back inside his own quarters. Immensely grateful he hadn't had to fend off yet more questions, he stood and stepped into the Floo. "The Leaky Cauldron!" 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, July 31, 1998 ---- 7:05 p.m.**

_Business certainly was booming,_ thought Severus as he stepped over the threshold of the twins' shop. Five minutes past the posted closing time, and the place was still brimming with shoppers eager to spend their money on utter tripe. 

And not just tripe, thought Severus as he made his way through the crowd. Some of the items being advertised for sale could be hazardous in the wrong hands. _Peruvian Darkness Powder,_ he read, scowling as he pushed his way forward. The boys obviously had no sense at all. 

But then, he'd known that the moment he'd read their letter to Harry. Making him a partner without so much as asking him! Severus knew how to read between the lines. He didn't have a single doubt whose brilliant idea _that_ had been. 

"Mr Weasley," he said in a chilly voice as he thrust aside a young witch asking about love potions. 

The man behind the counter beamed. "Professor Snape! Wondered if you'd ever stop by. Fred said you wouldn't but--" 

"George swore you would," said an identical man who came down the counter to stand next to his brother. "Told him you couldn't resist the new line of potion enhancers we've just launched. But you can't shove our other customers aside like that, sir--" 

Severus had heard enough. Leaning across the glass counter, he grabbed both Weasleys by their robes and hauled them close to his face. "Shut your doors, _now,_ and tell these people to come back another time." 

"Oh, we can't do that--" 

"Wouldn't be fair--" 

Severus abruptly let them go and raised his voice. "I really do think it's underhanded to let these people pay full price today when you know perfectly well you're starting a fifty-percent off sale tomorrow!" 

"We are not!" yelled George, but the damage had already been done. Customers were grinning as they began to pour back out onto the street. 

Severus pointed his wand and cast a _hurry-up_ charm on a few of the stragglers. 

"Well, I like that!" shouted Fred as the last of their customers left. 

"What gives you the right to come in here and wreck business, I'd like to know!" 

Severus pointed his wand and locked the door, then swivelled to aim his wand at the pair of them. "I'll wreck more than that if you don't stop blathering and listen to me. This vault you've set up for Harry Potter. You're to clear it out at once." 

Fred and George stopped glaring in favour of looking simply dumbfounded. 

"How do you know about that?" the both asked in unison. 

"Never mind how I know!" Severus put on his fiercest glare. Unfortunately, they'd seen it too often before. All their antics in class. They didn't look the slightest bit intimidated. 

"Now look here, Professor," started Fred. "Just because you don't like Harry, doesn't mean you can muck about in his finances like this." 

"Yeah, what's it to you if we want to help him feather his nest a bit more? Not that he needs it, but--" 

"You forget to whom you're speaking," interrupted Severus in a cold voice. "You'll do as I ask, and you'll do it immediately. It's Order business. Now get the key and we'll be off to Gringotts!" 

"Can't do it." George actually blew a bubble. A purple one. Then he popped his gum. "It's not a corporate vault, Professor. It's Harry's alone." 

"We can't do more than make deposits. What's this all about?" 

Severus almost growled. Trust the twins to make everything as difficult as possible. Harry would have to renounce the vault himself, then. But even that might not cure him, not if _Cambiare Podentes_ continued to believe that Harry still possessed any kind of financial interest in this idiotic shop. 

"Who is your solicitor?" he asked wearily. The thought of looking through contracts while Harry suffered was absolutely sickening, but it might come to that, if these imbeciles had put Harry's name on any of their business documents. 

"Don't have one," the twins said together. 

Imbeciles didn't even begin to cover it, but for once Severus was grateful the Weasleys were simple folk. 

"Then just give me this vault key," he snapped. "Unless you've already given it to your sister to deliver to Harry?" 

"You've been reading Harry's mail!" shouted Fred. 

"What the bloody hell's going on?" asked the other, his tones just as outraged. "What have you done with Harry?" 

Severus saw then that it was useless. They were never going to believe him, not that he was inclined to tell them the truth in any case. He couldn't even summon the key; the goblin magic inside it would see to that. The best he could do was to get this pair to Albus. They'd listen to him when he told them what to do. 

"Get this key and floo with me to Hogwarts," Severus abruptly ordered. "The headmaster will explain." 

Fred and George looked at each other, a little doubtfully, Severus thought, but then they shrugged. As one. Really, their matching mannerisms were quite eerie. George reached under the counter and removed a box. Three quick spells and it popped open. "Got it." 

Severus turned toward the shop doors, intending to return to the Leaky Cauldron, but Fred shook his head. "We've a Floo of our own in back, Professor. This way." 

"Both of you first," said Severus, not trusting them to follow if he went ahead. "Hogwarts' hospital wing." 

The moment both of them were gone, Severus stepped into the Floo himself, and disappeared in a flash of green fire. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, July 31, 1998 ---- 7:17 p.m.**

When Severus arrived in the infirmary, Fred and George were crowded around Harry's bed. "Blimey, what's wrong with him?" 

"I'm afraid we aren't quite sure," Albus said quietly. "Ah, here is Severus, who I believe can explain." 

"He said you'd explain!" 

Severus stepped forward and glanced down at Harry first of all. Still under the effects of the potion, he lay still and quiet, his breathing regular, if a tad shallow. "Did he wake again?" 

Albus shook his head. 

Drawing in a breath, Severus faced the twins. "Harry Potter has willingly placed himself under a powerful spell, part of which dictates certain financial arrangements. You don't need to know the details, save that by granting him a share in your business, you have caused this spell to believe that Harry is breaking part of a magical contract." Severus waved curtly down toward the bed. "This is the result." 

Fred and George looked at each other. And then at Severus. And then at Albus. 

"Huh?" 

Albus smiled very softly. "Ah. I see, Severus. Yes, that would cause problems. Boys, I know that none of this will make much sense to you, but I would ask that you do whatever Severus requests. He'll know how to remedy the situation." 

"Get out this key," Severus instructed. "I'll prepare an order for Harry to sign, transferring ownership of the vault." 

Fred frowned. "And that'll make him get better?" 

"It should help, at least," said Severus grimly. "Now, about this share of the profits you insisted on giving him. Can that simply be halted?" 

The twins looked all at once horrified. "We bound ourselves to it!" 

"Seemed the least we could do." 

Severus almost gnashed his teeth. He'd rather not have told them anything further, but under the circumstances, there was no chance of keeping them in the dark. "Then you're in for a rather nasty surprise, I'm afraid. Harry will be transferring not only the vault, but also his interest in your business. To me." 

"To _you?_ " cried the twins in unison. "Why can't he just renounce it, if it makes him ill? We'll take it back!" 

"He can't renounce it." 

"Why not?" 

Severus did bare his teeth, then. "Because he _can't_ , you cretins." 

"But why you?" 

It appeared they did have a few brain cells between them, for no sooner had Fred gasped out the question than they both began to work out the answer. 

"The spell! It's a binding, isn't it?" 

Fred nodded. "Has to be." 

"But what kind of binding would give Snape control of Harry's money?" 

"Harry's his apprentice!" crowed Fred, just as if he'd discovered the Elixir of Life. 

"Harry hates brewing, though--" 

"That's enough," interrupted Severus. "What Harry is, is no concern of yours." 

"The hell it's not--" 

"Severus," said Albus quietly. "I think they may as well know. I'm sure they'll respect the confidence once they know the truth, but if they leave here still consumed with curiosity . . ." 

That was all Severus needed: these two imbeciles poking into his private business. There was no telling just how indiscreet they might be as they went about hunting for clues and hints. And with their own sister one of the students who had heard parts of the original prophecy . . . 

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold off the headache that threatened. He could just see himself waking up some morning to read about _Cambiare Podentes_ in one of the rags that passed for news coverage in the wizarding world. Better that the Weasley twins know the truth now, though Harry would probably be furious. 

At any rate, at least this way the problem of Miss Weasley could be nipped in the bud. 

"The spell Harry's under is an enslavement charm," Severus said quietly, holding up a hand when the twins stared at him aghast. "And before you start yelling, remember what I said before. Harry went into this of his of free will." 

"That's a load of bollocks!" 

"Harry would never agree to any such thing!" 

"I was there to witness the invocation," said Albus, moving to stand in front of the twins. "As was your own father. And I assure you, Harry was indeed willing." 

"That prophecy," gasped George suddenly. "That stupid prophecy Ginny went on about, how it talked of some old spell Harry had to cast or he'd die, or something--" 

"'Salvation in a lightning bolt,' that's what she said! He had to do it to defeat You-Know-Who!" 

They looked to Albus, then, but the old wizard merely stared back, neither confirming nor denying any of that. 

"All right, all right," sighed George. 

"We'll keep silent about all of it," added Fred. 

Severus certainly hoped so. Harry had enough to contend with. He hardly needed to see mention of this in the press. "See that you do. However, without divulging specifics, perhaps you could impress upon your sister that she should forget any . . . romantic fantasies she may still entertain about Harry Potter. He's bound to me, as you surmised. It's not as though he can ever marry her now, so it's best she direct her attention elsewhere." 

Fred's brow wrinkled. "Ever? Oh, come on--" 

"You can't keep him your slave forever, Professor--" 

"I'm afraid Severus not only can, but must," said Albus quietly. "The enchantment is irrevocable." 

Fred and George turned as one to stare at Severus, then looked back down at Harry's pale, motionless form. 

"Remember, no mention of this to anyone, though discouraging Miss Weasley, in general terms of course, would be quite helpful," said Albus in voice full of false cheer. 

"Dad knows already," said Fred. "You can't stop us from talking to him." 

"Enough!" bit out Severus as he saw Harry beginning to stir. " _Accio_ quill and parchment." 

As before, Harry began to tremble the moment the sedative lost its grip on him. "Severus," he moaned. "I-- I--" 

"You're going to be fine," said Severus in a calm voice as he summoned ink as well and quickly began writing. "I'll have something I need you to sign in just a moment." 

But that moment was passing quickly. Harry went from trembling to thrashing even more rapidly than before. 

"Merlin's blood," murmured one of the twins, eyes wide. 

"We're sorry, Harry!" said the other. "We wouldn't have given you part of the business, not if we'd known--" 

Harry's own eyes looked wild. Albus was holding him down, and Poppy as well, by then, but that wasn't what had alarmed him. He'd obviously realised who else was in the room. Severus bit his lip and kept writing. 

Convulsions wracked the young man so fiercely now that he was flinging himself from side to side on the mattress, his eyes beginning to roll back in his head, again. Meanwhile, the twins were being perfectly useless, just standing there gawking. 

"Get over here," barked Severus as he took Poppy's place. "Help hold him!" He turned to the mediwitch. "I need him able to write. Now!" 

Poppy drew her wand. "Sending him into unconsciousness is one thing. Forcing his body to disregard the demands of a spell of this calibre will no doubt delay his recovery, but--" 

"He'll never recover at all if he doesn't sign this paper--" 

"I have gathered that, Severus!" Her brow wrinkled, Poppy murmured a few spells as Harry flailed against the hands holding him down. When she finished, there was no result for a long moment. And then Harry's violence abruptly ceased, though all over his body his skin continued to shake like his body was trying to thrash and couldn't. 

"Oh, God," whispered Harry, looking at himself as Severus dragged him into a sitting position. 

There wasn't any time to waste; Poppy's spell wouldn't last long against a force like _Cambiare Podentes._ Severus thrust the parchment in front of Harry and slid a hand beneath it to provide a surface to write against. "Sign this," he urged, shoving the quill into Harry's hand. "You're giving me your new vault and your share of future profits from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." 

Harry looked up at him, his eyes bleary with exhaustion, his eyelids blinking spasmodically even as his lips quivered and his skin looked like something was crawling along beneath it. The sight of it was awful. So much magical force being held back by Poppy's spells. "I . . . no, don't have . . . profits?" 

"Harry, _sign_ ," cried Severus. "They gave you a share of their business, and the spell is punishing you for it. It thinks you concealed assets at the invocation. You must divest yourself of them at once." 

"Oh, the l- l- letter . . ." Harry still looked a bit confused, but he scribbled something slowly across the bottom of the parchment. Then he flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his eyes still jerking from side to side. "How could you!" 

Severus wasn't sure if he was angry with the twins for causing all this, or if he'd noticed them standing alongside his bed, and he was angry with Severus for bringing them here. His arms and legs began to jerk, less violently than before, but enough to remind Severus that Harry was under the sway of two conflicting spells. " _Finite Incantatem,_ " he said, flicking his wand. 

Harry convulsed again. Once, twice, his back arching back to almost bend him double as Severus and Albus and the twins stood poised, ready to keep him from hurling himself off the bed. But then his thrashing seemed to calm, and he collapsed back to the mattress and lay there simply shaking from head to toe. 

"Residual?" asked Severus, reaching out a hand to stroke Harry's dripping brow. "He's growing feverish." 

Poppy's wand made several practiced movements. "This isn't residual," she finally said. "It's coming from the same source as before, though it's greatly diminished in force. I'll get a fever potion." 

She did, but it didn't help much. _Cambiare Podentes,_ Severus thought, was simply too strong an enchantment. Or curse, in this case. The contract was still punishing Harry. No doubt the violent convulsions before had been designed to force him to end his "defiance," though of course it had been no such thing. That didn't matter to the contract, though. It thought Harry had played it false, and it was clearly determined to teach him a lesson he'd not soon forget. 

Severus' chest ached a little just watching this. 

Harry lay there hot and feverish, his muscles jerking and shaking as he drank the cool juice Severus conjured for him. It dribbled all over his face and neck, though of course a cleaning charm made short work of the sticky mess. Harry moaned, and not in relief. He sounded like a man who had been through far too much, recently. 

But that, of course, was exactly what he was. 

"Shh, it's all right," said Severus, dragging a chair close and leaning his elbows on the bed. "It's just the spell, Harry. It'll be some time before you're back to your normal self, but you will recover, now." 

Harry made a movement that vaguely resembled a nod, but he seemed too tired and uncoordinated to make it work. 

Severus laid a hand atop his eyes, and smoothed them closed. "Try to sleep, Harry. I'll be right here with you if you need anything." 

Harry's voice was nothing but a low, hoarse groan. "Tell them . . . leave." 

Severus stared at the twins, his eyes hard, and held his hand out, palm up. "You heard Harry. But before you go anywhere, give me that key!" 

George did, fumbling in his pocket. 

"We're sorry, Harry, really sorry--" the twins said together. 

Harry's nod that time was slightly more recognisable. 

"Get out," said Severus in a harsh whisper. "And don't go making anyone else a partner without checking first that the arrangement is actually desired!" 

Fred and George looked like they wanted to say something else to Harry, but when Albus pointed a hand at the doors, they turned to leave. Albus followed them into the corridor. Poppy took one last sad look at Harry, and then retired to her office and closed the door. 

"They kn-- kn-- know, huh," whispered Harry. "All of them. I mean, it must have been hard to m-- m-- miss." 

"They know you're my slave," Severus said, closing Harry's eyes again when the young man tried to open them. Harry was still trembling from head to foot. "They don't know for certain that we're . . . involved." 

"Oh, God," moaned Harry again. "I . . . I can't think about it now. I feel so ill, Severus. Hot and cold and shaky. I couldn't feel it before, but it's aw-- aw-- awful, now." A drop of moisture squeezed out from between Harry's closed eyelids. "I didn't, Severus. I swear I didn't. Those Galleons were a g-- g-- gift. Years ago, now. No investment . . ." 

"I know," said Severus, taking Harry's hand in his own. "You aren't to blame. The contract is a mindless magical force." 

"Not f-- f-- fair . . ." 

Severus stroked his fingers over Harry's. "No," he said, wishing things could be different. "It's not." 

  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, August 1, 1998 ---- 1:01 a.m.**

Harry's head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. Itchy cotton wool, but he couldn't reach inside to scratch. But maybe he wouldn't have wanted to, anyway. It might make his headache even worse, and that was a truly sickening thought. The pounding, throbbing feeling in his brain was already enough to make him wish he hadn't woken up. 

As his consciousness returned more fully, he realised he was shivering all over, yet he felt like he might boil over, he was so hot. His hair felt plastered to him, and his pyjamas were damp with sweat. 

Pyjamas? 

He hoped Severus had been the one to change him. He'd always hated it when Madam Pomfrey had done that, no matter that she would use magic instead of her hands. 

Harry tried to move then, to kick the sheet away. Thank goodness he wasn't under heavy covers like he would be down in the dungeons, but still, the single sheet felt like it was just holding in this awful heat. 

He couldn't move, though. Not properly. His legs were shaking too much, and when he tried to use them, they did nothing but jerk spasmodically in place. 

_Shite,_ thought Harry. _This is bad. Fuck--_

A rustling noise beside him was Harry's first indication that he wasn't alone. He felt the sheet pulled away. The air that brushed him felt wonderfully cool, but he wanted more. 

"C- C- Cooling charm," he managed to croak. His throat felt dry and fiery, like it had been scoured with sand. 

"No, just the night air," said a voice he would recognize anywhere. Severus' deep, rich tones, though just now they sounded rather strained. 

Harry would have snarled with frustration if he'd felt coordinated enough. "No. W- w- want. Cooling ch- ch-" 

He stopped talking because he could feel one beginning, Severus whispering the incantation. Harry sank back into the mattress as the breeze wafted over him. But really, it only helped his skin feel better. Inside, he still felt like he was sitting too close to the Dursleys' radiator. 

"Here, drink this," said Severus, levering him up with an arm and pressing something hard and cold against his lips. Harry tried to open his eyes, then, but it wasn't worth the effort. The hospital wing was dark, the only light a thin ribbon creeping out from beneath Madam Pomfrey's office door. Harry wondered if she was in there. Then he wondered how long he'd been there. 

The potion, though, wiped all those questions out of his mind. It seemed to cool him from the inside, radiating a cold that spread outwards from his stomach until spread down his limbs and filled his fingertips. His headache faded to a dull throb. 

"Better?" asked Severus as he gently lowered him back down. 

"Mmm." 

As the sensation of being overheated receded, Harry could feel himself still trembling all over, inside and out. He needed another potion, he thought. One to stop these tiny spasms. He tried to ask for one and stumbled over the words, but Severus understood. 

"That can't be alleviated with magic again," he said, his voice thrumming with something odd. Harry was slow to understand it. Oh. Sympathy? Regret? He wasn't sure, but Severus sounded like this was hard on him too, at any rate. "It'll just make this last longer." Severus' hand clasped his and gently squeezed. "Why don't you try to sleep again? That's the best cure." 

Harry grimaced. "Thirsty." 

That was all he had to say. Severus supported him again and helped him drink. Apple juice, grape juice . . . Harry couldn't really tell. Even with the other man tilting the glass, though, he couldn't get it all into his mouth; some spilled down his front. Not that it mattered much. His pyjamas were already damp with sweat. 

That time when Severus laid him back down, Harry felt like he was collapsing, he was so exhausted. 

"Go back to sleep, Harry." 

"N- n- need--" Harry swallowed with difficulty. The more tired he was, the more the trembling inside him seemed to increase. Sleep was probably a very good idea, but he didn't think he could, not when he felt so sticky all over. "Change. Clothes. Bed." 

"Ah. Yes, of course." 

A moment later, Harry felt Severus' hands unbuttoning his pyjama top and peeling it off, then shimmying his bottoms down. For a second, he wondered why the other man wasn't just using magic, but when he felt the wet sponge begin stroking over his skin, he understood. It felt really, really good. Better than a cleaning charm, by far. "Mmmm," Harry said again. 

It was over too soon. Severus dressed him in fresh pyjamas and carried him over to a fresh bed. Tucked him in, even, though only under a sheet. No blankets. Harry tried to thank him, but he was so tired by then that the words seemed out of reach. The spasms in his muscles seemed to fade as he drifted off to sleep. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, August 1, 1998 ---- 8:24 a.m.**

Harry felt a lot more coherent when he woke up next, though he was once again far too hot. Worse, that quivering was back. Even his lips felt like they were trembling. Harry could have cursed. He was sure it must make him look like he was about to burst into tears. 

When he opened his eyes, the room was bright and cheery. Too much so. There were several vases of flowers on the night tables to either side of him, the bouquets filled with so many garish, clashing colours that he knew they must have come from the twins. Harry wanted to smash them. 

The noise of a chair scraping made him look around more. Severus was standing up, stretching, his robes rumpled, his eyes dark with concern when they sought out Harry. 

"Have you been awake long?" 

Harry blinked. "Er, no. Have you been sitting there all night?" 

Severus nodded brusquely. "What can I do for you? Do you fancy anything in particular for breakfast?" 

"Just a fever potion for now." 

He needed help to drink it. That was irritating. 

When it was down him and he was feeling better, Severus resumed his chair and gave him what seemed like a calculating look. "How much do you remember about yesterday?" 

Harry tried to clench his fists and couldn't. Too much damned trembling. He was sick of it. "It's kind of hazy. Nasty attack . . ." Well, at least he could speak without stuttering, now. "Have you ever heard of Vol-- I mean, the Dark Lord, doing something like that to anybody else?" 

For some reason, the question made Severus sigh heavily. He opened his mouth, then sighed again as if he didn't know quite where to begin. "Harry . . . what happened to you wasn't anything to do with the Dark Lord." 

"Wasn't . . ." Harry was able to furrow his brow, though it felt like the wrinkles were crawling, somehow. As the strong smell of the flowers washed over him again, he thought of something else. "The twins were here! Why were the twins here?" 

Another sigh. "I had to bring them here. They'd given you a share of their shop, and the spell was punishing you for having an independent income. But they wouldn't give me the key to the vault they'd set up for you, not until Albus convinced them we were serious about . . ." 

"Oh, no." 

Severus actually winced, then put on an expression that looked . . . stoic, Harry guessed. "Yes. We had to tell them about your enslavement." 

More memory was filtering into him, now. A jack-in-the-box with a letter. Then later, the world spinning around him as he tried to sign something. Severus almost yelling at him to sign it. 

"Oh. I . . . uh, renounced it, right?" 

"You gave it all to me. The vault and the income as well." Severus shrugged. " _Cambiare Podentes_ was under the impression that you'd cheated at the invocation and had managed to retain an independent living. I'm entitled to all your income, so . . ." 

Harry wanted to cross his arms over his chest, but there was no way. Too weak. "Fucking spell," he snarled instead. "Fucking idiot spell. What happened to it reading intentions? I didn't . . . defraud it!" 

"I know. It's more mindless that I had anticipated." 

Harry narrowed his eyes. It seemed he could do facial expressions even though he couldn't control his arms and legs very well. "Why am I still sick, then? It can't think I still have something to hide, can it?" 

"You're being punished," said Severus quietly. 

"I gave the stupid stuff away, already!" 

"Yes, but the spell isn't done punishing you, yet." 

"Well, that's just fucking great!" That time, Harry was able to shout as well as snarl. "Those idiots refuse to listen to me, I _said_ it was a gift, said I didn't want anything in return, and I get this dumped on me? Well, Voldemort doesn't need to worry much about how to get to me, now does he? All he has to do is owl me something and fucking _Cambiare Podentes_ 'll do his work for him! Am I going to go into convulsions every time somebody hands me a sweet, too?" 

"You know you aren't," said Severus, a little sharply. "I'm sure Albus has given you plenty since the invocation. You've been up to speak with him several times." 

"We were working through the Defence applications," Harry muttered. "But yeah, he has. So . . . I don't get it, I guess." 

Severus leaned forward, his dark eyes piercing. "Your post goes through me for a reason, Harry. All those gifts, for example. They came to me first, and I passed them on. I allowed you to have them. But the arrangement with the twins--" 

"There wasn't any arrangement!" 

"Yes, I know. What I meant was that this income, welcome or not, derived from a pre-invocation event. The spell decided that you should have assigned it to me along with your other assets--" 

"It wasn't bloodline-linked or magical!" Harry suddenly flushed. "Oh. It all started with my Tri-Wizard winnings. Maybe that would count as magical." 

"Perhaps you would have been allowed to give it away to someone else." Severus shrugged. "Now, of course, I own everything of yours, so it had to come to me. As for the rest, though , a sweet here and there is obviously not enough to offend the spell, but if anyone tries to give you something more substantial, I would advise that it go through me." 

Harry huffed a little. "Well, duh. I'm not stupid, Severus. The first thing I thought when I read that letter was that I wasn't allowed to keep this . . . damned income, and I'd have to ask you how to get rid of it. But it hardly seemed urgent. I mean, I didn't even have the key yet!" Harry twisted his lips. "Well, that'll teach me, I guess. It obviously was urgent." 

"How long did the spell give you to come find me?" 

"I don't know. Long enough for me to go plant Neville's seeds." Harry grimaced. "So it's my fault, then. I could have found you, and I didn't." 

"It's _not_ your fault. We're learning about this as we go." 

Harry closed his eyes in defeat. "Yeah, well it's hardly fair. We're both learning but I notice that I'm the only one suffering. But that's what it is to be the _slave_ , I guess." 

"You think I enjoy seeing you like this?" 

Harry cracked one eye open to see Severus holding himself stiffly. "No. I didn't mean that. Um . . . could you help me sit up a bit?" 

After he was leaning against several more pillows that Severus had summoned over, he felt a little better, though only physically. Now, he could see just how much he was trembling all over. Like an old drunk with the shakes. It was pretty horrible to watch, so he tried not to. 

Severus patted his hand a little bit, as if he understood, then murmured that he would see about getting Harry some breakfast. He came back in a few moments carrying a tray. When he set it on the edge of the bed, Harry was startled to see how heavy-laden it was. "Dobby knows I'm up here," he guessed, trying to shrug. He couldn't quite manage. "He'd want to treat me . . ." 

Severus cleared his throat. "Ah, no. You never did say what you'd like, so I asked for a wide assortment." 

"Oh." Harry certainly hadn't expected to hear that. He felt a bit bad, now, that he'd never once considered that Severus might be the one who'd made sure he got something he really liked. "Um, that was . . . um, thoughtful." 

"See anything you fancy?" 

"The blueberries in cream, I guess." Harry tried to push himself up on his hands, but it was hopeless, of course. All he managed was to get them to fall off his lap onto the mattress. After that, he couldn't lift them at all. 

He felt himself colouring as the obvious occurred to him. There was no question of him eating without help, not with his arms twitching like mad and not under his control. 

Severus had obviously already figured it out. He lifted a spoonful of blueberries to Harry's mouth. Harry chewed and swallowed, feeling like a baby or something. 

"Don't," said Severus, shaking his head. "You'd do the same for me. Actually, you did do the same for me." His lips twitched slightly. "And I wasn't very agreeable about it, as I recall." 

Harry wasn't amused. "Hate being weak," he muttered after a couple more bites. 

"Just as well then, that you're no such thing." 

Harry ate the rest of the blueberries a little bit resentfully. Maybe _weak_ wasn't the right word, exactly, but he sure wasn't going to be strong and self-sufficient, was he? Ever. _Cambiare Podentes_ would see to that. All he had to do was put one foot wrong and the spell would punish him. And now that he knew the form that magical "discipline" might take . . . 

He didn't really want the shirred eggs that Severus began feeding him, next. He just wanted to crawl under the covers and disappear. He didn't want to live like this, aware every second that it didn't matter, really, how reasonable Severus was being about the whole thing. 

Because no matter how well Severus treated him, the _spell_ wasn't reasonable. Harry knew that now. And it wouldn't matter how far he tried to run. He could never escape from _Cambiare Podentes._ Never, ever, ever. Wherever he went, it would go with him. For the rest of his life. 

He did eat the eggs, however. And then the toast smeared with pumpkin butter. And he drank the tea Severus lifted to his lips. Why should he expect to have any say over his own life? He was a slave. 

_Slave, slave, slave._

It hadn't seemed so real before, probably because Severus had been pretty decent about everything. But now it seemed like nothing else had ever been real at all. What had ever made him think he'd grow up and get to live a normal life? Nothing had ever been normal, not for him. 

He should have known better than to hope for a real life. 

"More?" asked Severus, dabbing a napkin to Harry's lips. 

_Why ask me? I'm just a slave,_ Harry almost said. But Severus didn't deserve that. He'd been as good as anybody could have been. It wasn't his fault that _Cambiare Podentes_ was hell to live with. "No." Harry closed his eyes. 

"That's good," said Severus, laying a hand on Harry's leg. "Try to sleep again." 

Harry nodded, saying nothing as Severus took pillows out from behind his head and settled him in. He'd sleep, sure. At least asleep, he didn't have to think about everything that was wrong with his life, or the fact that none of it could be made better. The despair felt like a heavy weight inside him. A weight that would never go away. He was trapped, and there would be no escape. Ever. 

As the smell of flowers wafted over him again, though, he thought that maybe there was one thing that could be fixed. 

"Twins," he mumbled. ". . . they come, don't let them in. Don't want to see anybody . . . who knows . . ." 

He felt Severus' breath close, and then a soft kiss, right across his fringe. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it." 

Nodding again, Harry let sleep take him away. 

  
  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, August 1, 1998 ---- 10:45 a.m.**

"Still sound asleep," said Albus as he pushed open the doors to the infirmary. "I take it there's been no change?" 

"He woke for breakfast," murmured Severus. Some part of him was aware that not so very long ago, he'd have been horrified to have the headmaster see him holding the young man's hand. Now, he couldn't bother being upset that Albus might realise he cared about Harry. 

All things told, he _should_ care about the young man. Harry was his. To protect. To keep from harm. All harm. And how well had he done? First London, and then _Compulsio_ , and now this. Severus hadn't had much control over any of that, to be sure, but he was determined to do better in future, all the same. 

Albus pulled up a chair alongside Severus'. "He was able to eat?" 

"Yes, though he seemed less than enthusiastic." Severus stroked his fingers over Harry's. He had to think about something else. Anything else. "I slipped a tiny dose of a sleeping aid into his tea. With any luck, the extra rest will help calm the last of the tremors. Though Poppy suspects that may take several days, regardless." 

Albus' tone was gentleness itself. "I'm sure you and Poppy will provide Harry with anything he needs. But what about you, Severus? How long has it been since you had a meal?" 

Severus looked away from the headmaster's knowing eyes. The last time he could clearly recall eating was the previous day's breakfast with Harry, though he'd surely managed a bite or two sometime during the night. He hadn't yet eaten today, though. "Some time," he said, a little bit dryly. 

Albus snapped his fingers and a small plate of finger sandwiches winked into existence. Grateful, Severus reached out for one with the hand that wasn't holding onto Harry. 

"Uh . . . hallo," said a voice from behind Severus. A familiar voice, even if it did sound a little shocked and uncertain. 

Dropping Harry's hand at last, Severus turned around in his chair and saw that it was Ronald Weasley who had entered. No sign of the twins with him. A good thing, that. Severus would probably have flung them into the hallway hard enough to crack their skulls open. He had slightly more tolerance for their younger brother, who hadn't contributed to Harry's condition, but that didn't mean he wanted him here. 

"Out," he ordered, standing up and pointing a finger. 

Weasley had been staring at the bed, but now he looked up. "Door was open, you know," he said, his whole expression troubled. Since Harry didn't look terribly ill while he was asleep, Severus thought that must mean that Weasley had heard about Harry's convulsions. And no telling what else. 

_Damn those twins to hell and back . . ._

"I don't care if the door bid you welcome and ushered you in." Severus would have raised his voice, but he didn't want to disturb Harry. The sleeping aid he'd slipped him wouldn't keep him under, not if there was a lot of noise right next to his bed. "You will leave at once and not return." 

"Oh, no I won't." Weasley's own voice was an equally low hiss, as if he, too, knew better than to wake a sick friend. "I'm here to visit Harry, so step aside." 

He actually puffed his chest out and braced his feet, like he thought he could use sheer force of will to make Severus back down. Severus, who had himself faced down more Death Eaters than Weasley had ever heard of. 

Well, at least the young fool hadn't drawn his wand. Although it was likely the headmaster's presence that was keeping him civil, come to think of it. "You can't visit him," Severus said, his tones implacable. 

Sure enough, Weasley glanced toward the headmaster, as if expecting him to intervene. But Albus said nothing. 

Weasley blew out a breath and spoke in a hushed tone. "Look, I heard about . . . er, a few things, and I'm really sorry, all right? But Fred and George didn't mean any harm by it, and I certainly had no hand in the whole thing. If they'd've asked me, I'd've told them Harry wouldn't want a return on his Tri-Wizard winnings. The money was just a reminder to him, of the awful year he'd had and the horrible things that happened in that cemetery--" 

"Is there an actual point to this?" 

At that, Weasley ground his teeth. "I knew you'd make this as hard as you could, you git." 

"Ronald." That was Albus, rising to stand as well, his voice calm yet chiding all at once. 

"I can call him a git if I like. He's got no more hold on me," said Ron, puffing out his chest again. "What's your next line, Snape? Going to claim that if I cheese you off you'll take it out on Harry?" 

"No, of course I'm not going to--" Severus stopped talking as it occurred to him that they'd come to the crux of the matter. "So, you know." 

Weasley nodded. "Yeah, I _know_. He's . . ." The young man looked like he was choking on it. "Gone and made himself into a slave. Yours." 

The young man did everything but shudder outright. 

Severus had more-or-less expected this, but he still wanted to string the twins up by their toes. "Whom else have they told?" he asked wearily. "Your sister, no doubt?" 

"For your information, they didn't even tell me!" said Weasley hotly, though as before, he did keep his voice down. "I overheard them discussing it with Dad, who told them that if they cared at all about Harry, they'd keep it from every living soul, including me. They didn't even tell me he was laid up! But once I knew I had to come and see him." 

Damned Weasleys hadn't ever heard of a silencing spell, thought Severus caustically. "You're not to tell anyone either. Is that clear?" 

"Of course I wouldn't!" Ron started to push past Severus, who grabbed his shoulders to stop him. 

"I'm serious," Severus growled, keeping his voice very low as he pulled Weasley away from the bed. He didn't stop until they were on the other side of the ward. "Harry doesn't want to read about himself in the press if it can be avoided, so you're to keep this to yourself. Considering your family's tendency to eavesdrop, don't even discuss the matter with those who already know about it!" 

He expected Weasley to latch onto the insult to his family. Instead, the young man took a step back in what looked like shock. "What happened to 'our new celebrity' and all the rest of that crap?" 

"What do you think happened to it?" Severus' nostrils flared. "He's been living with me since term ended." 

Weasley lost a little bit more colour, and when he spoke, he sounded like he was almost choking on something. "Living with you? _Why?_ " 

It felt rather satisfying, Severus thought, to drawl aloud, "Because he's mine." 

"I know, I know! But I thought it'd be . . . er, like he'd have a little room somewhere, and just pop by when you're gone so he could tidy, or something--" 

Severus snorted. "He's not a house-elf, Mr Weasley, and whatever you may think of me, I'm not one of his horrid relatives." 

Again with the shock. "He told you about them?" 

Severus just stared at him. 

Weasley finally nodded, swallowing like there was something stuck in his throat. "I . . . uh, none of my business, I guess. But he doesn't like to talk about them much at all, so . . ." Sighing, he started over. "Look, I just want to see him. I won't say anything that could upset him, if that's what's got your wand in such a twist. I mean, it's not like I _could_ upset him considering he's out cold, but I wouldn't anyway. I'll just sit with him for a bit." 

"No." 

"Why not?" 

_Because Harry doesn't wish it . . ._ Severus bit the words back. No doubt Harry also didn't wish Severus to share that information freely. He wouldn't want a rift with his friends, even if he had basically told Severus to keep them away. 

"Because he's _mine._ " That time, the last word lingered on his tongue. 

Weasley's mouth dropped open. "You . . . oh. You, er . . . you kind of like that, don't you?" 

"It's certainly no concern of yours if I do or not, Mr Weasley. Now, be gone." 

As Severus expected, the young man appealed to Albus, then. "Professor Dumbledore--" 

"I'm afraid it really is up to Severus," said the headmaster quietly. "It can't be any other way. For reasons that clearly, you already understand." 

Ron blinked, looking gob-smacked. He'd obviously expected something different from the headmaster. Severus was actually rather impressed, himself. He'd thought Albus would dispute the matter, at the very least. 

But perhaps this very incident had persuaded Albus that _Cambiare Podentes_ was nothing to trifle with. According to the spell, Severus' authority over Harry was absolute. And Albus, it seemed, was going to respect that. 

"I'll just leave him a note, then--" 

"No." Severus had no plans to let Harry know his friend had been by, not when it would only distress him. 

By then, Weasley had figured out that Albus wasn't going to help him ignore Severus' wishes. "I'll come by tomorrow," he said stiffly. 

"The answer will be the same," returned Severus. _And from now on, the hospital doors won't admit you._

"He'd want to see me!" 

Severus thought that Harry probably would, eventually. But now wasn't the time. "Mr Weasley, if you will just wait until Harry is well again, perhaps something can be arranged." 

"You're just hoping I'll forget!" 

"I'm hoping you'll leave, since you've been asked to more than once!" 

"Ronald, I think it's time," said Albus, moving to take his arm and guide him back toward the doors. 

Weasley twisted his lips, but then he let himself be ushered out. 

Severus sat back down in his chair and sighed. After a moment, he helped himself to a sandwich, and once more took Harry's hand in his own. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, August 1, 1998 -- \-- 7:13 p.m.**

Harry had slept most of the day, waking only for meals and potions. In some ways, it seemed he'd used up his reserves of energy earlier that morning. He'd talked plenty then, even shouting a bit. Ever since, though, he'd seemed too tired for conversation. The constant spasms in his muscles were sapping all his energy. It was still a horrible sight, Harry lying limply on the bed, his body almost . . . _vibrating_ as _Cambiare Podentes_ continued to punish him. 

Harry hadn't complained again about it. But then, perhaps he didn't have the strength. He'd been awake since Severus had helped him eat dinner, but apart from asking for a blanket--the fever was giving him chills, now--he hadn't said a word. Not that Severus needed him to. Harry was ill-- probably as ill as he'd ever been--and if he wanted peace and quiet, that was perfectly all right. 

As it turned out, though, Harry didn't want quiet. 

"What--" The young man cleared his throat. "What are you reading?" 

Severus glanced up. Harry had been asleep for so much of the day that when Albus had stopped by around two, insisting that Severus needed to take a short break from his vigil, he'd flooed down to his quarters to get some reading material. Now, he felt as though he shouldn't be paying attention to a book when Harry was lying there ill. "Thomas Hardy. Do you need something?" 

"I . . ." Harry's neck jerked spasmodically as if he were trying hard to either shake his head or nod. "What day is it?" 

Severus frowned, a little bit alarmed as he reached forward and laid a hand on Harry's brow. The young man was running a slight fever again, but it shouldn't be enough to cause disorientation. "August 1st." 

Harry's eyes went bleak. "Oh. So my birthday's over, then." 

Severus thought then that he should have planned more than a mere gift. A celebration in the evening, perhaps. He knew well enough by then that Harry's family had never put themselves out to wish him many happy returns of the day. The thought that he'd been similarly nonchalant about the matter . . . that was rather disturbing. "We can have some cake when you're feeling better--" 

Harry gave a low, bitter laugh. "Like I could care about cake, Severus. No, I meant, my birthday's over, and there never was any attack. Not from _him_." 

Ah. Severus understood, then. 

"The prophecy had it wrong." Harry started panting. "And here I am a slave and there never was any attack at all and no need for you to transfer that little bit of power into me. Oh, God. I'm a slave and I didn't _have_ to be! Is there anyone whose life is more _fucked_ than mine?" 

"Shh," said Severus, mostly because he didn't know what else to say to that. 

"Don't say that." Harry grimaced. "Oh, but I probably shouldn't tell you what to do. _You're_ not the slave here." He paused, still panting. "I don't suppose you'd overlook it if I killed Trelawney." 

"I doubt she's to blame. She's generally a charlatan, of course, but that prophecy was authentic." 

"Oh, sure it was." 

Severus crossed his arms. "It was, but something seems to have derailed the sequence of events she foresaw." 

Harry glared at him. "Pardon?" 

"Because we heeded the prophecy, the events she predicted did not come to pass quite as we thought they would, I think." Severus tried his best not to glare back. It shouldn't annoy him that Harry didn't want him, didn't want anything to do with him. Anybody would feel the same about enslavement. "I believe that if we hadn't invoked, the Dark Lord _would_ have attacked. And killed you, as Trelawney predicted. But she also said that if you invoked _Cambiare Podentes_ that you would in fact _not_ die. Obviously, invoking the spell changed something important." 

"Oh, that's just perfect," spat Harry. "Just absolutely perfect. I traded freedom for protection, and now, I don't even need the protection. You know, I wouldn't wish my life on my worst enemy. Or maybe I would. I'd wish it on _him_ , all right." 

"I'm sorry you've found everything so intolerable," said Severus stiffly. "I've done all I could to make your situation bearable." 

Harry's eyes snapped closed. "I know. I didn't mean you, exactly. It's just . . . I didn't want to be a slave." 

Severus wished he'd stop calling himself one. 

"And now, finding out it was all for nothing." Harry laughed then, the sound pitched high and slightly deranged. 

"It wasn't for nothing," Severus said, leaning forward. He put both his hands on Harry's shoulders and holding firmly, tried to still their shaking. Useless, of course. _Cambiare Podentes_ wasn't under his control any more than it was under Harry's. "Twice-filled powers, remember? Even if there had never been a birthday attack prophesied, you'd still need those in order to defeat the Dark Lord." 

"I'm not like you," Harry ground out, narrowing his eyes. "I don't do things for power!" 

"Hence the prophesied attack. Quite clearly, one reason for the prophecy was to force you to enter into the spell so that you _would_ be able to defeat him." 

"Yeah. Fucked, just like I said." Harry suddenly sighed, relaxing just a little. Though in some respect it looked forced. "But it's done now. I know I shouldn't be crying over spilt milk. I just want to know . . . why didn't he attack?" 

"Albus is actually trying to fathom that one out," murmured Severus. He had some ideas of his own, but until he felt more certain, it was probably best to keep his theories to himself. "Perhaps we can discuss it in a few days, when you're feeling stronger." 

Harry turned his head to the side and groaned. "Just as well. I feel pretty awful, now, and thinking about all of this isn't helping. When is this trembling going to stop?" 

Severus wished he knew. "Perhaps a distraction would help." The book lying close at hand gave him an idea. "Shall I read to you for a bit? Would you like that?" 

"Oh yeah, I'd just love to lay here shaking like a leaf while I listen to potions recipes." 

"I do have other interests besides brewing," said Severus dryly. "You should know that by now. After all, I just told you I was reading Thomas Hardy." 

Harry blew out a breath. "Oh, yeah. But I . . . uh, I thought he was probably a potions expert or something." 

"Miss Granger's efforts to get you to read Muggle literature didn't extend to the Victorians, apparently." Severus paused, then decided he'd better go ahead and ask. "Would you like her to visit?" 

Harry was silent for a long moment. So long, in fact, that Severus started to think he wasn't going to reply at all. But then he said, "No. That's . . . thanks, but no. I can't. I don't want anybody to see me like this." 

Severus nodded, taking that as tacit confirmation that he'd done the right thing with Ronald Weasley. If Harry didn't want to see the friend who would be used to the idea that he was a slave, he certainly wouldn't want to see one who was still caught up in the shock of learning it. "Hardy was quite a fine novelist. I'll read to you then, shall I?" 

"All right, then, yeah. Listening to you read might be good. Anything to get my mind off . . . things." When Severus opened the book again, though, Harry frowned. "Can't you start over from the beginning?" 

Severus didn't particularly want to re-read the first six chapters, but for Harry . . . Flipping to the beginning, he began again. "One evening of late summer, before the nineteenth century had reached one-third of its span, a young man and woman, the latter carrying a child, were approaching the large village of Weydon-Priors, in Upper Wessex, on foot . . ." 

Harry sank down into the mattress and closed his eyes. 

  
  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, August 4, 1998 ---- 11:55 a.m.**

Another meal being spoon-fed like an infant. Harry scowled. Well, at least he'd been able to eat a little bit by himself, this time. The shaking had just about stopped, and he could move again. But it was still really hard to get much done without help. He tired out quickly. 

And no wonder. His muscles needed rest after days of non-stop spasms. Rest they weren't getting, since every so often a wave of that awful trembling would wash over him again. "How long can the spell keep punishing me?" he asked in exasperation. 

Severus lifted his shoulders as he moved the finished tray aside. "If I knew, I would tell you." 

"Yeah, I know." Harry sighed. He knew he shouldn't take his bad mood out on the other man. None of this was Severus' fault, after all. Harry sighed and shifted against the pillows Severus had put behind his back. "Well, I can see why you warned me about magical contracts being so vicious and unpredictable. Er . . . if I can't lift a spoon I doubt I can hold a book for long. Read to me again?" 

Severus' eyes glinted. "More Quidditch statistics?" 

Harry shrugged. "Not my fault Hardy was too boring for words. And your other choices . . ." 

The outraged look that crossed Severus' face was almost amusing. "I thought you'd at least take an interest in Rudyard Kipling. He's sufficiently . . . juvenile." 

All right, the look on Severus' face _was_ amusing. Harry laughed. "I told you, if you have to read me something so mouldy, it's Edgar Rice Burroughs or nothing." 

"I am _not_ reading swill about jungle men or princesses on Mars." 

Harry grinned. "So then, re-read me that article about the Montrose Magpies." 

Severus snatched the newspaper from the night table and shook it out rather menacingly as he glared. Harry wasn't fooled, though. Any second now, Severus would just start reading, glare or no. Really, ever since Harry had taken ill, Severus couldn't have been more considerate. About everything, really. 

Actually, he'd more or less been that way since the night he'd used _Compulsio_ on Harry. It wasn't quite like he felt guilty . . . more like he kept expecting Harry to throw it in his face, or something. Harry actually wasn't quite sure. All he knew for certain was that his promise never to do that was a little harder to keep than he'd expected. More than once, he'd almost said something rude about it. Not because he was angry . . . at least, he didn't think he was. It was more that when he looked at Severus sometimes, he remembered. 

Well, at least it seemed like Severus had gone off anything sexual, after that. He hadn't so much as kissed Harry since. And Severus had stopped looking at him like he was some sort of tasty treat. And no wonder. Harry might not know a lot about sex, but he did realise that things that night hadn't been so satisfying for Severus. Except in the most basic way, enough so he transferred that protection and made sure that Harry wouldn't die on his birthday-- 

"Are you listening to any of this at all?" asked Severus in a derisive tone. 

Harry hadn't been, actually. 

"What is it?" pressed Severus, all mockery vanishing from his voice. "You look like you're feeling worse. Harry?" 

Harry swallowed. "I . . . oh, God. We didn't have to do it. _Compulsio,_ I mean. I made myself . . . I _let_ you, and it wasn't even necessary! Because there wasn't any attack." Suddenly he was cold all over. Shivering, in fact, and this time it wasn't anything to do with the spell punishing him. "I know what you said . . . I had to be a slave anyway, for crossing powers and defeating him, but we didn't have to rush into the sex thing. We could have waited until I could bear it, and we didn't!" 

Severus sighed. "We'll never know that for certain, Harry. You _did_ need the protection I was able to pass on to you. You needed it as soon as possible. It wouldn't have been wise to wait additional months . . . we'll never know exactly when it might come into play, after all." 

All true. Still, Harry turned his face away, only to feel a finger on his chin gently nudging it back. The look in Severus' eyes was some mixture of things Harry couldn't quite read, though he couldn't miss the concern there. "I know," Harry whispered. "I didn't mean I blamed you for not waiting. I mean, I practically forced you into it--" 

"Let's not debate who forced whom," said Severus in an oddly solemn voice. "Let's just . . . move forward, Harry. There's nothing else to do." 

"Yeah." Harry nodded, but the gesture felt forced. A moment later, he understood why. "No. I can't, really. Not until I know something." The question had been plaguing him for days, but the one time he'd asked, Severus had put him off. And Harry hadn't really felt like asking again. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know. But he needed to, he suddenly realised. "Why didn't the prophecy come true? _What_ happened to change the way things were supposed to go?" 

Severus stared at him for a long moment before he spoke. "We invoked. That's what happened." 

Harry cleared his throat, sure he was missing something. "Um . . ." 

"Albus and I have discussed this, and I think our conclusions must be sound." Suddenly Harry felt his hand grasped, Severus' fingers wrapping tightly around his own. "Harry, if you had never heard of the prophecy, or hadn't heeded it, things would have gone quite differently. Your years at Hogwarts were over and you were going to leave the protections of the castle. You would have gone out into the wizarding world, and would have been much more vulnerable. The Dark Lord _would_ have attacked you, most assuredly. But because we invoked, you stayed right here within the school's wards." 

Harry frowned. "He had no way to attack, you mean? That's not true." Lifting his free hand, he pointed to his scar, but Severus grabbed that hand as well, and held them both. 

"He had no way to even locate you," said Severus. "Invoking _Cambiare Podentes_ bound you to me so firmly that his own connections to you were utterly severed. All he could conclude, in that instant before he lost contact, was that your magic had changed. Remember, at the last Death Eater meeting I attended, that was the Dark Lord's overriding concern. He'd realised he could no longer sense you. He could tell that a magical force greater than his own had come into play." 

"Oh . . ." Harry slowly nodded. "If he'd planned to do something through my scar, he had to find a new plan. Maybe that's why he was so angry and tortured you like that." 

"Perhaps." Severus gave a tight smile. "Though the Dark Lord has never been one for self-restraint. In any case, without that connection to your scar he couldn't know for certain where you are. Hence, any more direct assault was not possible." 

"He'll know I'm here, soon enough. Everyone will." 

"Which brings us back to the wards that have long kept you secure." 

Harry blew his breath out. "Not _that_ secure . . . but yeah, I see what you mean. So, it all comes down to invoking. If we hadn't, I'd be dead." 

"Exactly as the prophecy foretold." 

"I hate Trelawney." Harry slumped in the bed. "Were you going to read to me or not?" 

Severus started in on the article again, but Harry couldn't pay attention to it. He just felt so defeated, although he wasn't exactly sure why. What Severus had explained wasn't so very earth-shattering. So invoking had stopped the attack, just as it was supposed to . . . the only surprising thing was that the invocation had stopped the attack from happening at all. 

It wasn't like invoking had done him no good, or anything. And he still needed twice-filled powers if he was going to defeat Voldemort. 

But for all that, Harry just felt _trapped_. Like his life wasn't his own. Like it never had been. 

Like it never would be again, not with _Cambiare Podentes_ hovering over him, just waiting for a chance to punish him. Severus could be reasoned with and had proven himself a fairly decent person, besides. But not the spell. It was a mindless force binding him to Severus, always there, watching in case Harry put one toe over the line separating slavery from freedom. 

It wouldn't even matter if someone else shoved his toe over that line. 

If Harry crossed it, no matter why or how, he'd be the one to pay the price. And not even Severus could stop the spell's horrible idea of discipline. 

Harry turned his face away from Severus again, and slid down in the bed, mumbling that he wanted to sleep. He didn't say the rest, but he thought maybe Severus knew. 

Harry wanted to sleep, yes. He just didn't want to wake. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, August 4, 1998 ---- 8:49 p.m.**

Harry wasn't listening again. Severus could tell. 

Setting aside the newspaper, Severus cleared his throat to get the young man's attention. "How about a spot of dessert, then?" 

Harry shook his head, not even looking up. He was staring at the ceiling, just as he'd been doing for much of the day. "Not hungry." 

"A game of chess?" 

Harry didn't even answer that. 

"Why don't you tell me how you're doing with those animation spells you were working on?" 

Another tiny shake of his head. 

Severus sighed. "What's wrong?" 

"What do you think?" 

"I think you're probably in need of more sleep." Drawing his wand, he prepared to dim the lights. 

"Oh, great. Treat me like a child, why don't you? I bet you think I'm acting like one, don't you?" 

Severus held tight to his patience. "I merely think the day has tired you." 

"Because I've been _so_ busy!" 

"Now you _are_ acting like a child, Harry," said Severus in a level voice. 

" _You_ try being a slave and see how well you handle it," retorted Harry. "Yeah, you just try it, just for one day--" 

Severus pulled his chair closer to the head of Harry's bed, and spoke in a low, intense voice. "I've never treated you like a slave." 

"Yeah, but I still _am_ a slave." 

"What do youwant, Harry?" 

"Out," said Harry succinctly, his eyes glittering as he finally looked at Severus. "And I can't have that, can I?" 

Severus knew that it was stupid and pointless to let Harry's wish for freedom bother him. Yet it did bother him. He'd done all he could. He'd been more than fair. About everything. Harry was _his_ , and Severus hadn't even used that to his advantage. Not once. "No, you can't have that," he said in a tight voice. 

"Yeah, I can tell you're _real_ upset--" 

"I damned well am upset, yes." Severus' voice was hard, then. "I didn't wish this on you, you realise." 

"No, you just--" Harry broke off. Abruptly. "Never mind. Maybe you're right and I should just get some sleep. Get the lights, would you?" 

"I just what?" asked Severus darkly, ignoring the request. 

"Nothing! Never mind." 

"What?" 

"I said I wouldn't . . . and I won't!" 

Oh. _That_. Harry was thinking about _Compulsio_ again. About how he'd promised never to reproach Severus. "If you're angry at me, perhaps it's best you just say so." 

"I'm _not,_ all right?" Harry abruptly sighed. "I just hate my life, that's all. You'd think I'd be happy living here at Hogwarts and with the new job and all, but . . . I'm a _slave,_ Severus. I don't think you even really _get_ that. But I do. Now, I mean. And all the other things . . . well, they're not enough." 

"What would be?" asked Severus, swallowing. 

"There isn't anything." Harry closed his eyes. "Don't mind me, Severus. I know you can't help any of this. It's just . . . I can't imagine going on, you know? Oh, I will, don't worry. I'll kill Vol-- oh, excuse me, the _Dark Lord._ I'll do it. I'll kill him, I swear. Something good has to come out of this. But afterwards . . . I don't know how I can go on." A bitter laugh echoed in the ward. "Maybe I'll get lucky and die right along with him." 

Severus felt something inside him breaking, hearing words like that. It didn't even matter that Harry couldn't possibly mean them. The young man was just depressed, and acting . . . well, not like a child, after all. Acting his age, perhaps. He was strong inside, Severus knew that. Harry wouldn't give in to this desire to die. He wouldn't give up, not even after the Dark Lord was no more. 

But he wished Harry wouldn't even think such things. 

"You aren't going to die with him." 

"Yeah, and you know why not?" Another laugh, that one almost like a cackle, it was so full of dark humour. "Because nothing ever goes my way. Nothing! Ever!" 

"You'll have a good life with me, I swear," said Severus, desperate to convince Harry of that fact. "I-- I--" He drew in a deep breath. "I'll give you what you need, Harry. Whatever it is." 

"Ha. _You_ won't even let me talk the way I like!" 

Severus sat up a little bit straighter. "What do you mean?" 

"The Dark Lord," scoffed Harry. "As if he's some . . . damned prince or something. It's disgusting. And you make me say it, just like I'm one of his nasty little toadies. But I have to, because when all is said and done, I _am_ just a slave. What I think about things doesn't matter. Not one fucking bit." 

"Then call him what you will," said Severus, appalled at the way Harry saw things. "I merely think that _flight-of-death_ is the more disgusting title. It affirms his indestructibility. But you must do as you please. I see that now." 

If he'd expected Harry to be grateful, or even conciliatory, he was in for a disappointment. "Yeah, _you_ see it that way," Harry practically snarled. "But the spell I'm under doesn't care about what I please. I'm going to get raked across hot coals if I make even the smallest mistake! That's all I deserve, I guess. 'Cause I'm the slave. And nothing you can do can change it. I might as well just lock myself alone in a room and never come out again." 

Severus knew that was just the depression speaking. Harry was feeling very low, which was only to be expected, really. He needed to be distracted. Cheered up. Given something else to think about, rather than lying here, brooding about the fact that he was enslaved. 

That was when Severus saw something that should have been obvious long before. _Isolation_. It wasn't good, not for Harry. The young man was much more of a social creature than Severus had ever been, which likely explained why Severus had never given much thought to what this summer must have been like for Harry. He'd been cut off from his friends. Of course, he usually would be in the summers, but now, Harry was done with school and all it implied. He'd expected to be leading an adult life. An independent life, with plenty of time for his friends. 

Instead, _Cambiare Podentes_ had trapped him here. He _was_ a slave, just as he kept saying. But Severus didn't want him to feel like one. Or feel deprived . . . of anything he needed. And he needed the company of his friends. He'd said so, before the invocation. And perhaps his friends could lighten his mood, and distract him from this brooding. 

"Hiding yourself away is hardly going to help matters," Severus said, standing. "In fact, I think it's high time you invited Miss Granger out to visit. You're well enough to see people, I think." 

Harry all at once looked panicked. "No, I'm not. Not yet. I'm not ready . . . I . . . Hermione's got a job, anyway, so she can't just take the day off to come all the way up here. She can't leave her parents in the lurch." 

It was fairly apparent to Severus that Harry was grasping for excuses to avoid seeing his friends. It took him only a moment to decide to press the issue. "Mr Weasley, then." 

"I'm sure he's busy, too--" 

"I'm sure he's not." 

Harry cast him a suspicious look. "How would you know?" 

"He's been coming by every day demanding to see you. Quite insistent about it, actually." 

Harry gaped. "He's been coming _here?_ Oh, no. Oh, God. Ron must know about . . . forget Trelawney. I'm going to kill Fred and George, I am!" 

A sentiment Severus heartily shared. 

"What does he know, exactly?" pressed Harry, gesturing vaguely before dropping his arms with a thud. "I mean . . . um, us?" 

Severus shrugged. "Albus and I didn't describe the nature of the bond in any detail. It does stand to reason that the twins might have guessed something, however. I was . . . rather insistent with them, and obviously quite worried about you." He felt spots of colour flagging his cheeks, and quickly added, "Besides, they definitely consulted with their father. Your friend eavesdropped, and overheard their conversation. I do trust Arthur's discretion, but there's no telling what he might have let slip when his own sons came to him with stories of me assailing them in their shop." 

"And boy did Mr Weasley get an eyeful at the invocation." Harry groaned. "I'd rather not see Ron, either, considering, but if he's coming around every day I suppose I'd better. I can't even imagine how angry he's going to be. I mean, this is a hell of a thing to have kept from him." 

"I think you'll find he's more concerned than anything else." 

"Ha. You don't know Ron." 

"I know him a bit better than previously," said Severus dryly. "Daily conversations tend to do that." 

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Well, let him in the next time he comes 'round, then. Can you get the lights, now? I really do want to sleep. And I don't think you need to stay in here with me any longer. I'm all right." 

Severus doubted that Harry was, where it counted, but after their earlier conversation, he decided that he'd best accede to the young man's wishes. "Poppy can contact me if you need anything." 

Harry closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, muttering something about how even _she_ must have reasoned everything out, by now. 

"She's merely concerned about your recovery." 

"Just the way Ron's _concerned?_ Sure he's concerned about only that. Yeah, right." 

Severus bit back a sigh as he leaned over the bed and feathered his fingers through Harry's fringe. "Harry, Mr Weasley's not likely to say anything to upset you. I'm sure he's guessed that I would . . . " 

Harry cracked one eye open. "You'd what?" 

Severus re-thought what he'd been going to say. "Forbid him to come again." 

"Well, that's hardly a big deal when he probably just wants one good chance to yell at me." 

"Mr Weasley wouldn't come around every day like this if he were angry." 

Fortunately, Harry was too tired--or depressed, perhaps, though that was hardly fortunate--to argue further. "'Night," he only said, yawning. 

Severus stayed until he thought the young man was asleep. Then he did leave. It was harder than he would have thought. 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, August 5, 1998 ---- 10:13 a.m.**

Severus had brought a new book with him. _Kidnapped._ Harry had to admit, it was a lot better than the man's other choices. And it only stood to reason that Severus couldn't read about Quidditch for days on end. 

Harry stared out the window as he listened. The story should have been gripping, but he couldn't seem to concentrate. According to Severus, Ron usually showed up mid-morning. Which meant right about now. 

His palms started to sweat. "Maybe he's not coming today," Harry whispered. 

Severus shut the book with a snapping noise. "Doubtful." 

"Er, maybe you could keep him out for just one more day, then. I'm not feeling so well . . ." Harry tried to start trembling again. Anything rather than face Ron. Too bad he couldn't really mimic the horrible palsied effect _Cambiare Podentes_ had inflicted on him. He should have been able to; God knew he'd had enough practise shaking and shivering in the last week or so-- 

"You shouldn't be so upset to see a friendly face." 

"Ha." Harry struggled to sit up a bit more. "Was it so easy for you to . . ." Harry struggled to find the right words. "Um, come out to your friends? But that's a ridiculous question. I mean, I don't think you had any friends. No offence." 

Severus' voice remained level, Harry noticed. It sounded like it took some effort, though. "That's a ridiculous question for another reason entirely. It simply wasn't a problem. It's ale and mead again, Harry." 

_Ale and mead . . ._ It took Harry a moment to catch the reference. When he did, he was almost tempted to ask for a big bottle of each. It might make talking to Ron easier. "Look, this is going to be a bit more important to people than which drink I prefer!" 

"You only think so because your upbringing has skewed your perceptions." 

"Oh, you think Ron is going to be delighted that you and I are going to have to . . . that we've already--" 

"I think you don't need to discuss our sex life with him," Severus said, his voice low. "In fact, I think you'd better stick to generalities that all is well." 

It only took Harry two seconds to realise that the other man had a good point. "The fucking contract. It'll punish me if I say too much about our . . ." He struggled to recall the contract's exact wording. "Intimate life." 

"Exactly." 

Harry hated the way his voice went a bit whiney. "Wouldn't you say this counts as a dire circumstance, though?" 

"A moment ago you were dreading telling him, and now you're upset that you can't go into details?" 

"I don't know. I just . . . I don't like the idea of being fenced in like this. But that's slavery, I suppose." Harry scooted down in the bed again. Two minutes sitting up and he was exhausted, his back aching like he'd sat a broom for hours. "Just read to me, then. But go back to the start of the chapter. I, er, wasn't listening." 

Severus said nothing as his long fingers found the place. When his deep voice began reading again, Harry closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the story. 

He wasn't sure how much longer had passed, but suddenly a knocking sound broke across the narrative. "Hallo?" 

Harry was nearly asleep by then, lulled by the smooth tones of Severus' voice. Another noise replaced it: the sound of robes rustling as Severus stood up. Harry heard a thud as the book was laid aside. He struggled to wake himself properly as he heard Ron say, somewhat caustically, "Door's wide open again. If I come in are you going to throw me out?" 

"Of course not." Severus paused. "Harry's ready for a visit now, I think." 

"Hey," said Harry sleepily as he blinked his eyes a few times. He tried to sit up again, but it was really too much effort. He sighed with relief when Severus helped him manage by propping some pillows behind him. Ron looked fuzzy, Harry thought, even when his vague outline came lot closer. 

Only when Harry felt Severus setting a pair of glasses on his nose did he realise he must have gone completely to sleep. "Er, sorry. I must have drifted off. Severus was reading to me." 

"I heard," said Ron in an odd tone. Now that Harry could see better, he could tell that Ron kept looking from Harry to Severus and back. Like he knew something. Harry almost groaned. Well, at least Ron didn't look like he was boiling over with rage. 

"I have some potions to tend," said Severus, glancing at Harry as though waiting for something. 

Harry couldn't imagine what, especially since he really didn't think there was any brewing going on. But then it dawned on him that Severus was trying to say that he'd stay if Harry wanted him to. 

"Oh, right," Harry finally said. "Yeah, you go and . . ." He stopped before he said something that wasn't true. He wasn't sure if the mind bond would flare up if he told Severus a lie that the man _knew_ was a lie, but he really didn't feel like risking one of those blinding headaches. Not that his head was feeling so good. Lines of tension in his neck were making his head ache. Harry lifted a hand to rub at his nape, surprised to feel actual knots there. 

Severus gave him one last look before leaving the hospital wing. 

The moment he was gone, Ron sat down in the chair that was close alongside the bed. "So, how are you doing?" 

"Fine," said Harry slowly. "I mean, I feel kind of weak, but I'm all right, I guess." As if to prove how weak he was, his arm chose that moment to flop downwards. "See? I can't even rub my own neck." 

The moment Harry said that, he practically cringed. _Oh, but Snape'll rub it for you, won't he . . ._

Ron didn't say anything of the sort. "You want me to?" He flexed his fingers. "Like after Quidditch. I know how to work out the kinks, all right." 

Harry wouldn't have minded, but he was worried that _Cambiare Podentes_ might. Of course, Ron didn't mean anything . . . it was just mate to mate, and he really did know how to give a good rub-down, but still, Harry shook his head. He knew by now how temperamental the spell could be. 

"No, no thanks. Just give me a while and if it doesn't get better you can ask Poppy for a headache potion for me." 

"Poppy." 

Harry smiled, recognising that tone of voice. He and Ron were going to be all right. It was all there, in that single word, Ron joking with him. Just like old times. 

The tension in his neck began to fade. "Yeah. She said to call her that. I'm going to be working here when term starts." 

Ron's features paled a little. "I heard." 

Harry felt a vague sense of déjà vu pass over him. That sense of old times again, except this time he was reminded of how Ron had been jealous of all the attention Harry got for being in that horrible tournament. "I didn't _ask_ to be made Quidditch coach, you know," he snapped. 

"You get to teach Quidditch?" Ron sounded genuinely surprised. He even grinned. "Now there's a dream job. Well, unless you make students get up at the crack of dawn. But you didn't like that when Wood did it, so . . . what?" 

"What did you hear, if you didn't know I'd be coaching?" 

That time Ron went almost ashen. "Oh. Er . . . I thought you were talking about . . ." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Er, you know. Your deal with _him_." 

Oh. Time to take the broom by the handle, then. "It's not a deal. It's a bond." 

"I know." Ron looked away, but when he glanced back, his eyes were shiny. Wet, almost. "You're really brave, Harry." 

The way he said it gave Harry chills. "No, not really." Biting his lip, Harry tried to figure out what to say. "It's not so brave to not want to die." 

A bitter flavour coated his tongue as it came to him again that there hadn't been any birthday attack. But there would have been one if he hadn't invoked. So unfair. 

"It's brave, Harry." Ron clasped his hands together. "The twins are really sorry, by the way. I mean, I know they're prats a lot of the time, and they have the worst judgment about pranks and all, but they weren't trying to jinx you with that gift. They asked me to tell you that you can have anything you want, as much as you want, right off the shelves, free of charge, anytime--" 

_Idiots,_ Harry thought, but then he felt bad. How could he expect Fred and George to really understand? _He_ hadn't, not fully, and he'd been living with _Cambiare Podentes_ for weeks. "I can't help myself to anything," he said, shaking his head. "That's what got me into this hospital bed to begin with. I have to depend on Severus, Ron. For everything." 

Ron just nodded, his eyes still sad. And that made Harry feel worse than anything else. He wondered what he could say. Things would be a lot easier without the contract in the way. Not that he wanted to go into a lot of detail, but still . . . "Listen, Ron. Severus isn't at all like I thought he'd be. Life with him isn't terrible, it really isn't. I mean, not at all." 

Ron sat back in his chair. "Well, that's good to hear. Though I had already sort of figured out that things could be worse. I mean, when I first heard, I assumed Snape would be his usual self with you, but then when I showed up here, he made it kind of obvious that he didn't hate you any longer." 

"Yeah . . . we get along pretty well, actually." 

"And he was really worried about you. And then when he wouldn't let me come in and sit with you, he was kind of . . . I don't know. I guess protective, which was really strange to see. But good, considering." Ron cleared his throat. "I mean, if you have to be bonded to him, it's good you two can get along. Though I never would have believed it." Ron suddenly scowled. "I still think he should have let me come in and sit with you, though." 

Harry swallowed. "I suppose, but I . . . I didn't really want to see anybody." 

At that, Ron's brow furrowed. "Not even me?" 

Harry decided he might as well just get it over with. Maybe Ron knew just how intimate _Cambiare Podentes_ was and maybe he didn't, but he was going to find out sooner or later. If he was going to hate Harry over it, Harry would just as soon know for certain. "Especially not you," he admitted. "Because . . . oh, God. The bond . . . there's a little more to it than just me being his slave." 

Ron leaned forward again, his hands clasped together. "I'm not stupid, Harry. I overheard the twins and Dad talking about the slavery spell. And I've talked to Snape every day since, and it wasn't that hard to put it all together. I mean, when I first came to see you, he was holding your hand, which was a bit of a shock, I'll admit. And he looked . . . well, I didn't think he'd be looking at you like that if you were just some . . . servant he'd had to take on." 

Harry blinked, wondering how Severus had been looking at him. "Er . . . right, then. So you know. You . . . er, you don't seem nearly as angry as I'd have thought." 

"You almost died, Harry. I came rushing here as soon as I knew. _That_ was all that mattered. And the rest . . . well, I've had a while to get used to the idea." Ron smiled a little bit ruefully. "Maybe it's a good thing Snape made me wait a few days." 

Harry eyed his friend. "You're sure you aren't upset?" 

Ron blew out a breath. "What do you expect me to say? I'm not delighted about it, but that's mostly because I'm worried about you. Are _you_ upset, Harry?" 

Harry didn't know how to answer that. He _was,_ of course. How could he not be? But what good would it do to tell Ron that? And besides, things weren't as bad as they could be. Severus had in fact been decent to him. "I was really upset at first. I mean, there I'd found out I was going to have to . . . er, be with a man, _that_ way, and back then I didn't even know that I was . . . er . . . um . . ." 

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Attracted to men?" 

Harry cringed, hearing it put so bluntly into words. And then, because Ron was just looking at him calmly, really without any reaction at all, Harry blurted, "You don't mind?" 

"Why would I mind?" 

Harry almost gaped. "Well, people _do_ , you know. I mean, lots of people--" 

"I don't know any." Ron shrugged. "And if I did, I'd tell them they were mental. What's to mind? Anyway, doesn't make much sense that I'd have a problem with it, does it? Me with a gay brother and all?" 

First Hermione had a gay cousin, and now Ron had a gay brother? Harry felt a bit like he'd just been flung into a Pensieve and was living somebody else's reality. Either that, or being gay wasn't actually all that unusual. He tried to be nonchalant about the matter. "Oh? I didn't know. Maybe I should have guessed, though. Percy does seem kind of like the type, doesn't he . . ." 

"Not Percy. _Charlie_." 

"But he's so . . ." Nonchalant went out the window. Harry could hardly believe his ears. "I mean, he works with dragons!" 

"What does that have to do with anything?" 

Harry wasn't actually sure. It just seemed like it should matter. "He's . . . I don't know. Strong!" 

Ron shrugged and eyed him like he wasn't making much sense. Which he wasn't. Harry had known that the moment he'd heard such a daft comment come out his mouth. He hadn't even meant it. Had he? 

"'Course Charlie's strong. So are you. So is Snape." 

"Yeah, I know, but--" 

"Why would you think you can't be strong if you like men?" asked Ron in a voice that sounded honestly curious. 

Good question. By then, Harry had realised he'd been very stupid ever to think such a thing, let alone say it. "I . . . I dunno. Maybe it goes back to my uncle talking about . . . er, Nancy boys." 

"Nancy whats?" 

Harry cringed, wishing he hadn't even said the word. "Er . . . that's what he would call them. Gay men, I mean. You know, because they're so much like . . . er, girls." When Ron started to look a bit angry, Harry rushed to say more. "I mean, that's what _he_ would say about them. I don't think that." 

"You don't exactly _not_ think it, either," said Ron, shaking his head. "Or you wouldn't have decided straight off that I meant Percy, who is a bit . . ." 

"Fussy?" 

"Poncy, I was going to say." Ron softly laughed. "But straight as a new broom, Harry. Now Charlie, he's tough and fierce all right. Faces down dragons for a living, but he only fancies blokes." 

Harry felt like his mind was spinning. He could still hardly believe that _Charlie,_ of all people, was . . . "And you don't _mind?_ " he asked again. 

Ron gave him what Harry could only think of as a piercing look. "Mate, _you're_ the only person I've ever heard claim that men like Charlie or Snape can't be brave or strong or . . . just regular blokes!" 

Harry flushed. The thought that he might really have picked up his uncle's attitudes . . . that Severus could have been right about that . . . that was a horrible thing to contemplate. But on the other hand, he couldn't really believe the wizarding world was so free of prejudice--this kind, at least. Severus had told him it was, but of course _he_ would say that. He had a vested interest in getting Harry to be comfortable about having sex with him, and he was Slytherin enough to lie to get his way. 

But now here was _Ron_ saying basically the same things. 

_Ron._

Harry had been sure, so absolutely sure, that Ron was going to have a fit. And he had reason to think that, didn't he? Harry narrowed his eyes. "If everybody in the wizarding world is so . . . so _tolerant,_ then how come you and Dean and Seamus and everybody would snicker so much about the rumours that Snape was gay?" 

Ron rolled his eyes. "Why do you think? Because it was _Snape_ , Harry. Honestly, can you imagine that man ever shedding enough clothes to have sex with anyone--" Ron abruptly flushed. "Oh. Sorry. I guess you can. But I just meant, we'd have laughed just as much if we'd heard he had a girlfriend, you know. Or if we had reason to think about McGonagall getting it on." Ron scooted his chair closer. "But I don't know that it's a case of being tolerant, Harry. That just sounds . . . off, somehow. I mean, there's nothing to be tolerant _of_ , see? You're acting like one thing's normal and the other isn't when it's all . . . it's all just . . ." Ron threw his hands up as if he didn't know what to say. 

_Ale and mead,_ Harry thought. A preference. One nobody much cared about, one way or the other. He'd understood what Severus had been trying to tell him, weeks ago, but he hadn't really believed it. Not fully, not truly. But perhaps Severus _had_ just been telling the honest truth. Well, as wizards saw it, anyway. 

"So you wouldn't have minded at all, if I'd told you earlier that I was sleeping with Severus." Harry smiled, feeling better. He'd been expecting everyone to judge him, he supposed. Knowing that they _wouldn't . . ._ he felt a heavy weight had been lifted. 

"Well, I don't know that I can say that," Ron murmured. "I'd have thought it was awful, full stop. But not because of what you were thinking. Not because he's a bloke. I'd probably have gone 'round the bend because he's _Snape._ You see the difference?" 

Harry did. "But you're not going 'round the bend, now," he said, a little cautiously. 

Ron snorted. "No point, is there? You're already bound to him. For good, the way I heard it. I might not like it so well, but I'm not such a lousy friend that I'd try to make things even harder on you. And besides, I told you. Snape seems . . . well, I . . . er, I stood right outside for a bit, earlier, listening to him read to you. Never would have imagined he'd do a thing like that. 'Course he was still ruder than blazes to me, every damned time I tried to come see you. But that's Snape for you." 

Harry had no trouble imagining just how rude Severus might have been. He nodded. 

"He's not that way with you any longer, though, is he?" asked Ron, a little fretfully. "I mean, you seem like he's treating you all right, but now that I know how much _control_ he has over you, I can't help but think about the things he used to say and do. We put up with years of him being a complete bastard to you--" 

Harry could understand how Ron felt. Of course he could; it was a fear he'd had himself. But no more. He struggled to lean forward a bit, wanting Ron to believe him. "I couldn't have invoked the spell if I hadn't trusted Severus." 

"Yeah, I heard Dad tell Fred and George something like that." Ron was still frowning. "But you trusting him doesn't exactly make him trustworthy. What if--" 

"I can't think like that," interrupted Harry. "Listen, you know how you said a minute ago that you weren't stupid? Well, neither am I. Severus had to earn my trust and I didn't make it easy. This wouldn't have worked at all if he hadn't--" Harry sighed. "I guess you had to be there." 

Ron slowly nodded. "It feels kind of funny that my dad knew all about this. I mean, the way he talks, I think he still knows more than me." 

Subdued, that comment. Subdued, but not resentful. 

Harry was sorry that he'd hurt Ron, but he still did think there hadn't been much choice. Now, though, he could explain a little bit, he supposed. "Your father came to the invocation ceremony that bound me to Severus. I . . . I had to pick a witness, see? After Sirius, your dad's the closest thing I've ever had to a . . . a father figure, I guess. And I knew I could trust him not to . . . er . . . " 

"Breathe a word?" 

Harry's voice dropped to a bare whisper. "I thought you wouldn't want to be my friend if you knew. I'm sorry." 

"Lucky thing you're so ill, or I'd have to smack some sense into you." When Harry glanced up, Ron was smiling a little, as though to say that all was forgiven. His expression quickly turned serious, however, when he went on. "I guess you had your reasons to think a thing like that, though. _Nancy-boys_ , all that. That's disgusting, and if you thought wizards were just the same as your uncle . . ." Ron sighed, and suddenly reached out to awkwardly pat Harry's arm. "I'm glad you had someone there for you." 

Guilt suddenly swamped Harry. Suddenly he wanted all the secrets gone. "I had Hermione, too," he admitted, wincing. 

"Hermione went to the ceremony as well?" 

"No. I meant . . . she knew about the spell. I talked to her." 

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Oh. I _thought_ it was a bit strange the way you two were going off together. Even crossed my mind to wonder if you were getting together, but I trusted the pair of you not to do a thing like that, not behind my back." 

Ouch. That hurt a little. Ron had trusted _him_ , and he hadn't done the same. 

"Her finding out . . . it just sort of happened. She was with me when Binns explained that the spell would mean enslavement." Harry lifted his shoulders. "And I still wasn't going to talk to her about the Sex Magic part of it, but she blackmailed me into it by threatening to meddle!" 

"That sounds like Hermione, all right." 

Harry couldn't quite let it go at that. "But then I found it was good to talk, actually. And then it turned out she had a gay cousin and--" 

"Oh, yeah." Ron suddenly made a swerving motion with one of his hands. "Parker. He races motorcycles. I met him at a family dinner right after term ended, and they showed this veeedeeeoh, I think they called it, of his latest race. He's _mental_ , Harry. It looked more hazardous than Quidditch, honest, and the Muggles don't have healing spells or anything!" 

Harry knew he was wrong to ask. After all, if Charlie, who worked with dragons for a living, could be gay, then certainly a man who raced motorcycles could be. But still, he had to know. "How do you know that he was her gay cousin?" 

Ron's grin grew wider. "Oh, now there's a story. See, Parker brought his boyfriend to the dinner. Tallish bloke who works in a bookstore or something. And on the veeedeeeoh, when Parker won the race, this blonde bombshell wearing practically _nothing_ threw herself at him and started planting kisses on him left and right. And the boyfriend--I forget his name--stormed out saying they were through, that enough was enough. And then Parker ran out after him, yelling all sorts of . . . well, stuff about their sex life, actually. Complaints." 

Harry gasped. "No wonder Hermione said that her cousin talked to her about . . . er, everything." 

"Oh, Parker talks, all right." Ron laughed again. "After he came in from yelling at his boyfriend, he sat down and complained some more. Right until Hermione's parents reminded him that I was there. I guess I was red as my hair. But what did they expect? Wizards don't go on about . . ." Ron paused for a moment. "So, did you want that headache potion, then?" 

Harry rubbed his neck again, just for a moment. No knots now. "Nah, it's eased off on its own." 

Ron nodded. His next words were gruff. "I'm really sorry about what I said to you. You know, about Ginny. Took me a while to put it all together, but I guess you pretty much had to push her away." 

"It might have ruined the invocation if I'd have kissed her for real." Harry's lips turned down. "And if she keeps on the spell might end up punishing me. But that's not the only reason I can't have her acting like we're fated or something. I meant what I told her, Ron. I'm _not_ attracted to her." 

"I guess you aren't, at that," murmured Ron. He seemed to be eyeing Harry rather intently. "Can I go ahead and tell her you like blokes, Harry? I'm pretty sure that would put an end to her . . . er, advances." 

"I . . ." Harry shrugged. Why not? Apparently it _wasn't_ the end of the world for people to know. Not that he wanted to put it on the Wizarding Wireless, but . . . "Sure, go ahead. But ask her to keep it to herself, all right? Tell her I'm Muggle-raised and this kind of thing is just personal." 

"All right." Ron stood up. "Well, you look pretty beat, so I'll go. But I'll be back tomorrow. Er . . . I'd have brought you something if I'd known I'd get to see you. So, fancy anything? Chocolate snitches? Sugar quills?" 

Anything like that would have to go through Severus, Harry thought. The man had said that a sweet wasn't enough to catch the spell's attention, but who knew if a whole box of them might? But Harry didn't want sweets, anyway. 

"Hermione," he said, yawning. "Bring Hermione along. If she can miss work, that is." 

Ron nodded, turning away to leave as Harry closed his eyes. 

  
  
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, August 7, 1998 ---- 7:14 a.m.**

Harry woke up in a sweat, his arms and legs jerking and twitching. After-effect of the dream, he guessed, since it slowed when he opened his eyes, stopping completely as soon as he managed to sit up. But what a dream. Nightmare, more like. Harry shuddered just thinking about it. He'd dreamed that the convulsions had come back, much worse than before, shaking him until his teeth ached, until it seemed like his head would be jolted loose from his neck. 

So real . . . it had all seemed so real, the spell punishing him again, more harshly than before. 

Harry gasped, a terrible certainty suddenly gripping him. Of course it had seemed real--the nightmare had probably been a warning. _Cambiare Podentes_ was reminding him of things he should never have forgotten in the first place. And now, the spell was probably waiting to see what he was going to do. 

His heart began thudding. The thought of those convulsions coming back for real . . . it was more than he could stand. The spell was out there, hovering nearby, _watching_. Waiting for him to make the slightest mistake. Waiting to strike. 

Harry wasn't going to give it a chance. Not again. Not ever again. He swivelled his legs off the hospital bed and stood up, clutching the night table for support. He felt unsteady on his feet, and no wonder. Quick trips to the loo, leaning on Severus all the while, were as much exercise as he'd got in the last few days. No matter. Harry was sure he could make it across the room to the Floo. Even if he had to crawl. 

No way could he risk staying here until Severus came by a bit later. He might fall asleep again, and after that nightmare . . . no. _No._ Harry knew what he had to do. 

He staggered over to the cavernous fireplace and snatched some Floo powder from the mantle before falling over the hearth. Hard part over. Now all he had to do was drop the powder and name his destination. 

When Harry spilled out of the Floo in Severus' living room, he was covered with soot, panting, and too weak to even make it to the bedroom. Not that he needed to. With those reflexes that had no doubt saved his life many a time, Severus rushed into the room, no doubt alerted by the noise of someone unexpectedly flooing in. 

"Harry!" he exclaimed, clearly startled by Harry's sudden appearance. And then he seemed to realise that Harry must have a reason to leave the infirmary so abruptly. "What's happened?" 

Harry had to stop coughing before he could answer. "N-- Nothing. Just time to come back, you know?" He tried to get to his feet and failed. Damned convulsions had really done a number on him. At this rate, he'd be lucky if he was fit to teach when term started. 

Severus scooped him up off the floor and wasted no time depositing him onto their bed. Grimacing, Harry gestured at himself. "Er . . ." 

That was all he needed to say. His wand already in hand, Severus cast a cleaning spell and then helped Harry into fresh pyjamas, banishing the soot-covered ones from the room. Afterwards, Harry felt quite a bit better. His heartbeat calmed as the panic that had gripped him faded off. It was all right now. He was safe. He was doing what the spell wanted. 

Severus sat down on the edge of the bed, and ran a hand up and down the coverlet, right alongside Harry's leg, though he didn't touch him. "Perhaps you could explain, now. I take it Poppy didn't release you. I can't think she'd have sent you home in such a state. You don't even have your glasses." 

_Home_. The word kind of took Harry by surprise. Of course this _was_ his home. He wasn't so daft that he didn't realise that. But to hear it said so casually . . . almost like Severus thought he belonged here . . . it made him remember what Ron had said, something about the way Severus had been looking at Harry . . . 

He kind of wanted to know how Severus was looking at him now, actually. But the other man was right that he'd flooed down without his glasses. 

"Harry?" 

A chill coursed over Harry's spine as it came to him that Severus wanted an answer. And he'd better comply, hadn't he? He was a slave. No matter that Severus treated him well. The spell wouldn't. That was the part Harry had to remember. "Oh. Um, I had a nightmare, so I thought I'd better . . ." He waved a hand, the gesture vague. 

It seemed like a smile might have ghosted over Severus' face, but when Harry squinted, the other man certainly didn't look happy. "You remembered that you don't have dreams like that when you're with me," he said, pausing a moment before adding, "Would you like me to hold you?" 

Harry almost laughed, but it would have been bitter. Yeah, like someone _holding_ him would make a difference. "Not that kind of nightmare," he said, shaking his head. "I . . . I mean, I started shaking horribly. In the dream, but when I woke up it was still going on. And then I remembered I'd been dreaming about the contract. You know, the very first clause on that list of gotchas." 

"Gotchas." 

"Stuff I have to be sure to do, or I'll be punished. And the very first one was to sleep in your bed. And I haven't been, and I suddenly realised that, so . . ." Harry slumped against the pillows. "Here I am." 

Severus shook his head slightly. "The clause was about sleeping in my bed whenever it was practicable, as I recall. You've been ill and in need of hospital." 

"Well, yeah, but then I dreamed that and I realised I was well enough to finish recuperating down here." Harry gulped slightly. "And that I'd better. I mean, for all I know, _Cambiare Podentes_ sent me the dream as a warning. Not that I fucking expect one, after getting such a nasty punishment before, and for something that wasn't even my fault. But still. So I came down before I did something stupid like fall back to sleep. God knows what the spell would have done to me _then._ " 

A warm hand enclosed one of his. Strange how he'd once assumed that Severus' skin would be a cold as a vampire's. "The spell wouldn't have been as unreasonable as that, surely." 

"Ha." Harry sighed. He wanted to pull his hand away then, but reminded himself that a good slave would probably let it be held. "You try getting shaken practically to bits, and then you see how you feel." 

"All right." Severus' voice was soothing, Harry noticed, but for some reason it grated on his nerves. "Why don't you get some more rest? You look as though you could use it. And I'll fetch your glasses and let Poppy know you haven't gone missing." 

"Yeah, you can tell her that your slave is back where he belongs," muttered Harry. "Why beat around the bush? She knows I'm _property_ , now." 

"You're--" Severus abruptly stopped speaking, his teeth clicking together. 

"What? Right?" Harry rolled onto his side and tried to get his pillow arranged comfortably. Was it his fault he ended up sort of punching it? 

"You're understandably upset." Severus' hand settled onto his shoulder. "I . . . I don't know what to say to make you feel better." 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "Well, that's no surprise. There _is_ nothing you can say, Severus. This is my life and I hate it, but that's just too damned bad, isn't it? And it's only getting worse because no, I haven't forgotten that we still have to cross powers. And I know what _that's_ going to take, don't I? I know better now than before. And all I can think is at least you were careful about it, and didn't hurt me, and then I feel like such a . . . a _girl,_ Severus. _Be gentle with me . . ._ it makes me sick!" 

Severus cleared his throat. "The fact that you're recovering from a terrible experience doesn't make you a girl, Harry. We all have times when we need a gentle touch." 

"Ha, not you," scoffed Harry. "You're too tough and clever to get yourself raped--" 

"Will you stop describing it that way?" asked Severus in a raised voice. "You were not to blame for what those men did--" 

"I stayed in London!" shouted Harry. 

"Yes, you did. But that doesn't make you responsible for their actions." Severus' fingers squeezed his shoulder, then. "You seemed more cheerful yesterday after your friends visited. Perhaps you need more of their company?" 

Harry shook his head as he lay there. "I don't know how I managed to act like things were fine when Ron and Hermione dropped by. Things aren't fine, and they're never going to be. And having to pretend is really a strain. I mean, I was glad to see them but at the same time it was almost like torture, see?" Harry was horrified to feel his clenched eyes growing damp. Just what he needed. Gritting his teeth, he forced the weakness back. 

Severus pushed on his shoulder until Harry was on his back again. "Torture? You told me you were happy they'd decided to marry." 

"I am! It's not that." Harry opened his eyes, unaware of how bleak and dull they were. "It's just, they're living normal lives. And that's all I've ever wanted. A job, and going shopping and worrying about making ends meet and arguing about what to do on the week-end . . . and I'm never going to have it." 

"You can have all those things--" 

Harry couldn't help but scoff. "Not _really._ I can only have what you give me." _How dense are you?_ he wanted to add, but managed not to. 

Severus sat up. Away from him. "I can't help that, any more than you can." 

Harry rolled onto his side again, his annoyance with Severus dying. He just felt defeated. "Yeah. I know. Didn't say I blamed you, did I? What is, _is_ , that's all. I never did get it before, but I sure do, now." 

"Harry--" 

"Look, I'm tired, just like you said. All right if I sleep?" 

He didn't, though. He closed his eyes and listened to the whoosh of the Floo. He heard Severus returning a few minutes later, heard the quiet clink of his glasses being set down on the night table. Heard the noise of Severus settling into a chair close alongside, and then the unmistakable sound of pages being methodically turned. 

After a while, Severus began reading out loud. 

Harry almost told him to stop. He didn't feel like trying to follow a story. But then he thought that Severus really did have a marvellous reading voice. Deep and low and smooth, the baritone ebb and flow of it hovering in the air and then sort of melting into Harry. 

He listened to the sound of it, instead of to the words. 

It didn't make him feel any better, of course. Nothing could ever do that. But at least it didn't make him feel worse. 

  
  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, August 16, 1998 ---- 8:36 p.m.**

Severus ran his fingers across the spines of the books on one shelf as he glanced down at Harry, who was sitting curled in a chair in the parlour. Ever since the young man had come back home, they'd fallen into a pattern. Harry was strong enough to hold a book, now, but most evenings, Severus would read out loud to him anyway. It was something they could do together. A way to pass the time, without falling into silence. Or without Harry saying something that showed how very unhappy he was with his lot. 

Evenings like this, though . . they weren't exactly what Severus had envisioned when he'd thought about their life together, during those last few nights before the invocation. He'd expected their evenings to include lots of touching, with Harry gasping beneath him, Harry begging for more, faster . . . 

Instead, they never even kissed, these days. How could they? Even if Harry was ready, which Severus doubted, Severus still couldn't be the one to make the first move. Not with Harry harping all the time on how he was nothing but a slave. Severus winced, just imagining it. Harry would suffer his kisses with stoic resentment. He'd _submit,_ and hate every second of it. 

That kind of submission was never what Severus had wanted between them. 

Harry had to be the one to want things. To kiss him first. Severus was determined on that, no matter that sometimes he looked at Harry now and ached. Not just in the physical sense, either, though that was plaguing him more and more as time went on. He ached for what they'd had briefly, in those few nights just before Harry had taken the Express to London. He ached to have Harry say he wanted frottage, or to have the young man order Severus to suck him off. Or follow up on his speculations in the ritual bath, about whether he could swallow Severus down to the root. 

Severus wanted all of that so much that he could practically taste it. And what did he have instead? Harry's irritable company. Harry turning away from him each night when they went to bed. Harry saying _no_ every morning when Severus asked if he'd like to shower together. 

The worst part was that it was all so understandable. Severus knew why Harry was upset and depressed, why his anger sparked to life at odd times and for such little provocation. He knew, but that didn't necessarily make him patient. He cared about Harry and wanted him to feel better about everything, but sometimes he just wanted to shake him, too. 

Perhaps he'd be more tolerant with Harry's moods if he wasn't in such a constant state of sexual need. Almost two months since the invocation, and all Severus had got was what was strictly necessary. One time with Harry, and that only because of the absolute necessity to transfer that little bit of power into him. And even to achieve that, they'd had to use _Compulsio_. 

Severus shook his head, remembering. That had truly been horrid. No sensuality at all. No heated touches, not even a pretence at desire or passion. Worse even than the encounters he used to have with the occasional rentboy. Severus hadn't even enjoyed sleeping with Harry that time, except in the most basic physical sense. The real horror of that night, though, had been how long it had taken Severus to come. He'd rather have finished it quickly, and spared Harry. But with Harry clawing the sheets and clearly wanting to reject him every second, Severus had had trouble getting aroused, let alone coming. 

He'd wanted it all to be different. He'd wanted . . . Severus sighed inwardly. He'd wanted what amounted to a marriage. What else could he have likened it to? No matter that _Cambiare Podentes_ would make Harry subject to him in every way. Marriages, particularly arranged ones, were frequently unequal. It didn't mean they had to be unhappy. 

But Harry was clearly unhappy, now. Deeply so, and nothing Severus could say or do had been of any use at all. 

"Anything in particular?" Severus asked, a book already in hand. When he glanced down at it he almost sighed out loud. Another Thomas Hardy. What could he have been thinking? 

_Perhaps,_ Severus thought caustically, _that Harry doesn't care what I read, anyway._

Sure enough, Harry answered almost as though on cue. "Whatever you like." 

Severus was so much at a loss as to what to do, that he might have even read about princesses on Mars by then, if only Harry would show some interest in it. Instead, he put the Hardy back and studied the shelf again. 

A flame flared in his hearth, and Albus' head poked emerged. "Severus?" 

Severus waved for the headmaster to come all the way through. 

Albus pulled back and then stepped into the room, dusting himself off as he walked forward. "Fine night, fine night. How are you, my boy?" 

_Not well,_ thought Severus. "Well enough," he said. 

Albus' smile was kindness itself, even as he said, "Ah. I meant to inquire of Harry, actually." Summoning a chair closer, Albus sat down facing the young man. "How are you, then?" 

"Smashing," said Harry, clearly sarcastic. "Come for story time, have you?" 

"Pardon?" 

Severus pulled up a chair for himself before he said anything. "I thought you liked me reading to you." 

Harry flushed. "I do. Don't mind me. I'm not in the best mood." 

"Ah." Albus paused for a moment, as if considering his next move. Then he fished in a pocket of his pink robe. "Hmm. I seem to be out of lemon sherbets. Perhaps you'd like a raspberry ripple?" 

Harry raised his voice. "Severus, can I have a raspberry ripple?" 

He didn't sound like he wanted one at all. He just wanted to make a point. The same point he'd been making for days. 

Albus' bushy eyebrows drew together over sad blue eyes. "Oh, surely you needn't ask permission for a trifle, Harry." 

"Severus, can I have some trifle?" 

Severus glared a little. Harry was just being obnoxious. "We've discussed this very point, Harry. But as you appear not to have heard me before, listen now. You have my irrevocable permission, now and henceforth, to accept as many sweets as you like, or anything else you're given, is that clear?" 

Harry made a face. "Gee, thanks. Can you check for me if the spell understands that?" 

Unfortunately, that point was a good one. 

Albus removed his hand from his pocket and shook his head. "Well, perhaps something else might cheer you, Harry. You recall the Defence applications?" 

"Yeah, just go ahead and hire Umbridge," muttered Harry. "My life couldn't be any more screwed, anyway." 

"Harry!" 

"Oh, sorry, Severus. Yeah, just keep telling me how to talk. Let's not forget, I'm not an adult and never will be--" 

Severus gnashed his teeth. "Don't be absurd. Of course you're an adult." 

"Then stop telling me how to talk!" Harry sat up straighter. "Adult, my arse. I don't even get to pick my own job!" 

Albus voice grew stern. "Harry, no one in this room thinks your lot an easy one, but we are all doing our best. Is the job not to your satisfaction?" 

Harry shrugged, the motion an angry one. "Of course it is. I'd just rather have picked for myself." 

"What would you have picked?" asked Severus, leaning forward, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair. 

"Defence and Quidditch." Harry ran his hands through his hair, making it even more messy than usual. "So why should I complain? I know . . ." He looked straight at Albus. "Sorry, sir. Those really were brilliant. Especially the Quidditch. And it gives me a reason to be here, so people don't start to wonder why I'm still hanging about the castle. So, thanks." 

"Oh, you're most welcome, though I fear you've got hold of the wrong end of the wand," said Albus softly. "Severus is the one who realised that with his approval, you could hold a position on staff, and came to me asking that I have the Governors create one." 

"Yeah, I knew that, I think." 

"And Severus is the one who insisted you would enjoy having duties other than strictly academic ones." 

Severus could cheerfully have throttled the old man, and that was before Harry swivelled his body in his chair and looked at him, his eyes intense. "You said that it was the headmaster who thought the Quidditch program could be improved!" 

"Oh, I do think that. Indeed, yes," said Albus. "It was Severus, however, who remembered my remarks at staff meetings and applied them to your situation." 

"Oh . . ." Harry glanced at Albus, again. "Er . . . what did you want to tell me about Defence, anyway?" 

Albus gave one of his kindly smiles. "You've been too ill to help me interview as we had planned, but I thought I'd let you know that I went ahead and engaged David Bryerson for the position. You recall his application? He was one of the very strongest candidates." 

"Yeah, he was." Harry nodded. "Sorry I couldn't help you. I did mean to." 

"I would rather have waited until you could, but in fairness to the applicants a decision needed to be made." Albus stood up, his hands fluttering. "Mr Bryerson arrived earlier today, Harry, to move into the castle and begin to prepare his classroom and curriculum. Your official duties of course do not begin until term does, but if you would like to go introduce yourself at some point, you certainly may." 

"I guess I should meet him. Too bad I couldn't help interview. I wanted to ask what he'd expect of an assistant. I guess I can go ask tomorrow, though." He sighed, the sound of it a little bitter. "Oh, what does it matter what he expects? It's not like _I_ can get sacked." 

"Enough bad attitude and you can be," Severus couldn't help but say as he stood up as well. "But in that case it would arouse comment that you still remained in the castle." 

Harry flinched as he sat there. "What if word gets out anyway? You think the students will respect me much once they know I'm a sex slave?" 

That time, Severus didn't rebuke Harry for saying something so blunt in front of Albus. Though he did wish the young man would use a little better judgment. 

"Harry, the wizarding world will be so in your debt once you vanquish Voldemort that the students will probably be awed by your mere presence," said Albus evenly. "No matter what they may know of your personal life." 

"I hate it when people are awed just to be near me!" 

"Yes, I know. But there's no escaping it, I fear." Albus nodded at Severus, then made his way over to the Floo and left without another word. 

Harry stared at the empty hearth for a moment. "I'm going to have a bath." 

With that, he was gone as well, and Severus was left alone. If things were different, he'd have gone to share that bath. But things weren't different. 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, August 19, 1998 ---- 3:59 p.m.**

Harry picked up another rock and threw it into the lake. It fell into the water with a satisfying _plunk_ , sending a small splash upwards. Harry watched the ripples spread outward, and thought of other times he'd been out here. Happier times. More innocent times, when the worst thing he'd had to worry about had been . . . 

All right, so his life had never been particularly innocent, not since he'd first found out that his name alone could make people stare at him. Ever since then, he'd had terrible worries. 

But still, in years past he'd stood on this very spot and skipped rocks across the surface of the lake, chatting with Ron as if he didn't have a care in the world. 

Harry lifted up another rock and threw it with both hands. Maybe that was the difference between being a child and an adult. He couldn't really forget his problems, now. He couldn't pretend they didn't exist. They were like these rocks: sunk right down into his soul. 

Well, at least Bryerson had seemed a decent enough sort. Harry had stopped by the Defence classroom on Monday. He'd rather have put it off, but he'd basically been staying put in either the infirmary or Severus' quarters since his birthday. Hiding, more like. Harry knew that wasn't a very good idea, even if it sure did appeal. He had to get up and moving; he knew that. 

Giving up just wasn't something he could do. 

So yeah, time to face life again. _Life as a slave._ But Bryerson didn't know that. Only Albus, Poppy, Ron, Hermione, the twins, Arthur Weasley, and Severus. 

An ever-growing list, it seemed to Harry, but maybe it would be a while before any other names were added. 

"Mr Potter," Bryerson had said as soon as Harry walked up to the front of the classroom, where the other man was flicking his wand to unpack books. He did glance at Harry's scar, but said the name levelly, like meeting the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't his life's ambition. That was a hopeful sign, Harry had thought. 

"Professor Bryerson." Harry glanced around at the boxes piled on student desks. "So you probably know I'm to be your assistant? Er . . . could you use some help unpacking?" 

"Oh, no need for that. You're still on holiday, I understand." As Bryerson had turned away to check something written on a tablet, Harry saw that the man's dark-brown hair was almost waist-length, but tied back with a strip of beaded leather. "If you don't mind staying to talk to me for a while, however, you could fill me in a bit. You just finished here in the last term, I believe the headmaster mentioned?" 

Harry had nodded. "You want to know what we learned in Defence each year, something like that?" 

"That would certainly be helpful. The headmaster couldn't tell me much except that things had been rather disorganised." 

"Well, we never have had a professor last more than a year, so yeah." Harry wondered what else he could say. It didn't seem like badmouthing the previous teachers was really that good a move. Bryerson might think that later on, Harry would be insulting _him_. "Some were better than others, of course. We did have a really good sequence on Dark Creatures a few years back." 

Bryerson's brown eyes had gleamed a little as he studied Harry's expression. "I appreciate your tact, Potter, but the headmaster did already explain that the Defence curriculum here was in such disarray that you took it upon yourself to teach students after hours." 

"Oh." Harry hadn't really been expecting Bryerson to know about that. "Um . . . I did, yeah, but it was more of a group effort than that." 

Bryerson hopped up to sit on top of a desk and gestured for Harry to do likewise. "I'll admit I wasn't looking forward to having an assistant, at first, but as soon as I heard that you'd already taught a bit, and been quite successful at it, I decided it wasn't such a bad thing." 

"Well, I don't know how successful we were--" 

"Enough to hold your own against a contingent of older and more experienced wizards. Dark ones, at that." 

It all seemed like a long time ago to Harry. Nothing to crow about. Not that he'd ever felt like crowing, come to think about it. Sirius dying had taken any sense of victory clean away, he supposed. Otherwise he might have felt like they'd accomplished something that night in the Ministry. 

Harry tilted his head to one side, curious about something. "Er . . . why wouldn't you have wanted an assistant at first? I mean, if I'm going to be in your way--" 

Bryerson laced his fingers together. "It's nothing like that. It's merely . . ." He lowered his voice, just a little, and leaned forward. "To tell you the truth, I've never taught before, and I'm more than a little nervous. It's uncomfortable enough thinking about bollixing it up in front of the students. To have my own assistant see me looking like a dolt as well?" 

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Suddenly the distance between himself and the new professor seemed much, much less. "I'm nervous too," he admitted. "But that's because most of the students were here when I was still in school, see? I think it's going to be hard for them to look on me as anything other than their old mate. You won't have that problem." 

"I'd still rather have another ten years on them." Bryerson had lifted his shoulders. "I'm only twenty-five." 

Harry hesitated for a second about whether he should say it, but in the end decided it wouldn't do any harm. "You're older than some of the teachers were when they started. Severus Snape, for example. I'm positive he started younger than that." 

Bryerson had blinked, clearly trying to recall something he'd been told. "Charms, yes?" 

"Potions." 

"Ah." The other man grinned, then. "I never did have much talent at that." 

"Me neither." Harry grinned as well, feeling better than he had in days. "So did you go here, then? Before my time?" 

The moment he asked, he knew that must not be the case, since Bryerson hadn't known what Severus taught. The other man, though, was polite enough not to point out his error. "No. My mother's family lives in Central Europe, you see. She attended Durmstrang and insisted I do the same." Bryerson shrugged. "I used to complain about it, but looking back, I'm glad I had the chance to get to know my relatives on the Continent." 

Harry nodded. He'd have liked a chance to get to know more of his relatives, too. His father's side of the family. 

"After I left school, I popped across the Pond for a few years of graduate training." 

"Oh. Harvard?" It was the only American university Harry knew of that had a wizarding department. 

"Nothing so elite. I spent my time in the plains states, learning from medicine men. From several different tribes, actually. Fascinating stuff. British wizardry has a lot to learn, in my opinion." 

Maybe that explained the leather holding his hair back, Harry thought. It did look sort of Native American. He knew his next question was stupid, but he had to ask it. "Um . . . I don't suppose you've been to Disneyland?" 

"Twice." Bryerson's grin was almost infectious. "It's brilliant. You'd think Muggles have magic." 

"I've always wanted to go." 

"No reason why you can't, with International Portkeys so readily available." 

There was every reason, Harry thought, his good mood evaporating. Severus had said _no_. Actually, he'd said _not yet,_ but it boiled down to the same thing. "Um, so can I help you unpack?" 

"No, I need to do it myself. It comes from having a poor memory. If I put everything away myself, I'll manage better. Besides, you're on holiday, as I said." 

"This isn't exactly Disneyland," Harry said dryly. 

"Ah. Bored?" 

He wasn't, not exactly. He'd just spent too much time lately indoors, and far too much time staring at the stone walls of the dungeons. Harry suddenly wanted to kick himself. What had he been doing? So he was a slave, yeah. And that was lousy. But he'd been making it a lot worse than it had to be, acting like he'd been locked in, or something. Of course he'd been ill at first and hadn't really felt up to resuming his swims or hikes, or even flying, but he'd been well for days, now. 

"I guess I'm just still adjusting to being here but not being a student," said Harry, since he could hardly explain what had had him so depressed. What still had him depressed, actually. 

Bryerson had nodded. "I remember feeling a bit adrift when I was figuring out what to do next. Have you considered any long-term plans?" 

_Why would I?_ thought Harry. _It's all been planned out for me._

Then he was shaking that thought off, since dwelling on it would only make him want to bury himself in the dungeons again. "Not really. I'm just going to take things as they come." 

"Fair enough. Well, if you get a chance, I would much appreciate that written summary of your instruction in Defence during the last six years." 

"Only six? I went here seven--" 

"Yes, but your classmates have left. It's those who remain here to be instructed who most concern me." 

"Right." Harry had nodded, pushing back the bitterness that tried to grip him at the thought of everyone else leaving while he was left here to stagnate. 

He _wouldn't_ stagnate, he decided. He couldn't afford to, for one. He had to keep his skills strong and growing if he was going to defeat Voldemort. Not to mention being worth anything as an assistant or a Quidditch instructor. "I'll get right on it. Er . . . I wanted to ask if you had any idea what I'd be doing, exactly? I mean, during classes?" 

"Well, the first thing is to decide what classes you'll assist in. I understand you're to coach Quidditch as well and that your Defence Assistant duties will be part-time, therefore. Do you have any preference?" 

Did he, ever. "Yeah, I'd really rather not help out with the seventh-years," Harry said, thinking of Ginny. She might have been warned off him by now, but he thought he'd feel better not seeing her several times a week, all the same. "You know, I'm friends with a lot of them and it's bound to get awkward." 

"Perhaps first through fifth years only." Bryerson stroked his chin. "Or first through fourth, if you think the other will take too much of your time. I'll get a schedule to you and you can decide. As for your duties, I imagine we'll work those out as we go. All right?" 

Harry had smiled. For once, he felt like he was being treated completely like an adult. 

Remembering that now, as he stood on the shore of the lake, Harry couldn't help the thought that came next. _About time someone treated me like an adult._ Severus was trying his best to be decent, but for all that, he was still a bit overbearing at times. Maybe he couldn't help it, though. After all, he'd known Harry as an eleven-year old. As a student. And now Harry was his slave. 

Bryerson wouldn't think of Harry as a child or a slave, though. To him, Harry was just a young adult starting his first real job. A responsible job. A plum post, really. Teaching assistant in a place like Hogwarts? In other circumstances Harry would have been honoured to be offered a chance like that. 

Being given the job just because he was stuck here anyway sort of took away from that, however, Harry thought. But still, he did want to do the best job he could. With that in mind, Harry sat down on the sandy shore of the lake and dragged parchment and quill out of the knapsack he'd brought along with him. Maybe writing out his memories of Defence class out here was a bit daft, but he'd wanted to be out in the sun again. He'd wanted to breathe in the fresh air and feel like there was some point in being alive. 

He couldn't help but picture Bryerson's open, friendly expression as he began to write. 

  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, August 22, 1998 ---- 9:20 a.m.**

"So, do you fancy a trip into Hogsmeade this morning?" 

Harry looked a bit startled as he glanced up, as though his thoughts had been far away. "Oh. I . . . is that a good idea, you and I going together?" 

Severus shrugged. "Why not? People do already know about your new job. It won't surprise many to find out you've taken up residence in the castle." 

"It'd surprise many to see me spending my free time--ha, presumably free, I mean--with _you._ " 

_Presumably free._ Severus bit back a sharp retort, though he couldn't quite restrain his annoyance with the phrase. Let alone Harry's constant harping on the topic. "I've given you all the free time you could wish, this summer. To my recollection I've yet to set you a single task." 

He hadn't really expected any thanks. Just as well, since Harry clearly wasn't about to offer any. "Yeah, _given_. Which means it was yours to give. You can't expect me to be leaping for joy, here." 

No, Severus didn't expect that. What he _had_ expected, and wanted, was to find a way to live together with Harry in relative happiness. 

And they _had_ found a way, really. In those weeks before Harry's birthday, they'd been getting along, he'd thought. Between trips abroad and quiet dinners at home, they'd dealt quite well together, excepting the looming disaster of needing to overcome Harry's sexual barriers, of course. 

Harry hadn't ever seemed joyful, certainly. But during those weeks, he had seemed to be coming to terms with his enslavement. 

No longer, though. Ever since his birthday, Harry had been alternately apathetic, brimming with resentment, or outright angry. And through it all, he'd practically posted a "Hands Off" sign in the centre of their bed. A sign Severus had little choice but to heed. He didn't want reluctant obedience. He wanted passion. Enthusiasm. Interest in sex. 

He wanted everything he should have, things he'd worked towards. Things he deserved, after all the time he'd taken to convince Harry that sex with him would be marvellous for both of them. 

Instead, he had this . . . _teenager_ constantly making half-veiled allusions to his slavery. Although Harry openly acknowledged that none of it was Severus' fault, he acted as though it were. And Severus was becoming very tired of Harry's moodiness and sulking. He'd been as patient as anyone could expect, both about the sex and about Harry's recent attitude. But patience didn't seem to be helping the situation much. 

At that moment, he wondered why he'd thought to invite Harry along to Hogsmeade. Why would he want to inflict even more of Harry's company on himself? 

He knew the answer, of course. He'd sworn to himself to see that all Harry's needs were met, and he knew perfectly well that being cooped up in the castle with few people for company wasn't the best thing. For himself, yes. But Harry was more of a social creature. Witness how animated he'd briefly been on Thursday night after he'd had another visit from Weasley and Granger. 

A visit where he had entertained his guests upstairs. No reason for it, really, not when both visitors knew the truth about _Cambiare Podentes._ But when Harry had got the owl on Thursday morning, he'd straight away decided to meet his friends there instead of in the dungeons. 

For privacy, perhaps. Or perhaps he didn't want his friends to see where he really lived. Or the person he lived with. 

Severus shook off those thoughts. Merlin knew he didn't care to have ex-students invading his dungeon quarters, anyway. 

"So, Hogsmeade, then?" 

Harry shook his head. 

_Not the apathy again,_ thought Severus. It was better for Harry to be angry than defeated, he thought. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of saying something to bring out that anger. But no, that hadn't worked so well before, had it? When he'd tried to manipulate Harry away from falling into that trancelike obedience he'd adopted? What had worked far better was talking the matter through. Things between them hadn't really started to improve until after they'd begun to talk things over. 

Not that Severus thought he was so skilled at that sort of thing, but he did try to learn from his mistakes. Manipulating Harry had definitely been one of them. 

"It's not good to bury yourself down here," he said softly. 

Harry glanced up, clearly startled. Severus could understand why. Had he really said a thing like that? 

"You do." 

Severus shrugged again. "I like the quiet and the solitude, as I think you know. But you aren't me." 

"Yeah." Harry cleared his throat. "I'm not . . . er, _burying_ myself, Severus. I've been going out to the lake every day this week. Swimming again, most days." 

That wasn't quite the point Severus had wished to make. "You said you wanted a life filled with the usual things. Sitting down for a pint at the Three Broomsticks might be a good start." 

"Sitting down with you." Harry shook his head. "I . . . no. I can't. I'm supposed to hate you, remember? People will start to wonder if there's something going on with us, and it's one thing for Ron to know. I mean, he understands that I didn't have a choice. I can't read about us in the morning paper--" 

"Oh, for pity's sake." Shoving away his empty plate, Severus leaned forward. What he wanted to do was grasp Harry's hand and squeeze hard, but the young man had leaned back. Away from Severus. Physically now, but he'd been withdrawing from the moment Severus had suggested that they go out together. "The two of us out for a drink isn't going to occasion comment!" 

"The hell it's not--" 

"Not _that_ sort of comment," said Severus scathingly. "The most anyone will say about it, and they wouldn't bother saying it to a reporter, is that we must be trying to get along better, given that we're about to be colleagues." 

"Colleagues?" 

Severus scowled. "Of a sort. Of course you're far junior and all that, but you will be a member of the teaching staff." He did his best to calm down, but Harry's attitude still did sting. Apparently it was all right to be seen together in far-flung places like Italy or Norway, but Harry would rather die than be seen with Severus in Hogsmeade. It left a bad taste in his mouth. So could he help it if his voice was reluctant when he asked for the third time, his teeth gritted, "Are you coming along, then?" 

"No, I--" 

"There won't be another chance until after term starts. Until the first Hogsmeade weekend, most likely. And you can't possibly go into the village alone, if that's what you have in mind." 

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me. I love not running my own life!" 

Severus was fed up with comments like that. "With your history of recklessness?" he retorted. "You'd run it into the ground if we let you!" 

"Yeah, throw London in my face, now!" Harry shot to his feet, his eyes blazing. 

"I wasn't." Severus stood up, more calmly than Harry had, and waved his wand to banish away what remained of their meal. He tried to speak without scorn. Leaving on an angry note hardly seemed wise. "I'll see you this evening, then. Is there anything you'd like me to get you in Hogsmeade?" 

"I can't have the only thing I want!" 

Severus sighed out loud. Comments like that didn't help anything, so they were as childish as they were true. "Fine. Have it your way." 

"I _can't_ have it my way! Not even if you want to _let_ me!" 

A man only had so much forbearance, Severus thought then. So much and no more. "I'm doing my best!" he suddenly roared, an urge strongly gripping him. An urge to push Harry up against the nearest wall and have him in every way conceivable. To shove him to his knees and then shove his own trousers down and thrust his cock against Harry's parted lips . . . 

Severus' cock liked the image. It sprang to attention, thrusting hard against the fabric constraining it. It ached. 

But then, what did Severus do besides ache, these days? His only relief was his daily morning shower. All things told, that shouldn't bother him so much. He'd gone long periods before without a man to sleep with. 

But that was the problem, wasn't it? He _had_ a man, right there in his bed every night, right beside him! Only, it was a man who wouldn't sleep with him, who wouldn't touch him at all, in fact. Or want to be touched. 

Harry had his reasons, certainly. Severus even understood them. But that didn't help him from feeling like he was being kept in a constant state of need and tension, with no hope of release. 

"I know you are," Harry said, his voice all at once subdued. "Doing your best. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't keep complaining." 

_Kiss him_ , a little voice whispered inside Severus' head. _Don't shove him up against the wall. Just pull him into your arms now, and kiss him. He's making up with you, see? It'll be all right._

No, Severus decided. Harry had to be the one to kiss him, first. Harry had to want him. They couldn't go to bed again with Harry feeling like it was because he was a slave and had to. 

But that voice was still quite right on one count. They needed to come to better terms. 

"I know you have cause to complain," said Severus. "Everything about this is difficult. But really, Harry, nobody will comment much on our having a drink together. Or just going shopping, perhaps. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You always enjoyed shopping immensely during our trips abroad." 

Harry smiled, just a little. "Well, I never got that many chances to shop before, you see. Um . . . I guess you're right about the drink and all, but I'd still rather not go today. Bryerson got me a set of the texts he's going to use, and I wanted to start going through them to see what he has in mind for each level. Compare it to the notes I made for him and see if I notice any overlaps, or . . ." 

Severus nodded. It was good to see Harry taking an interest in something besides his own problems. "You're spending quite a bit of time with Bryerson. Getting on all right, I hope?" 

"Yeah, he seems like a good sort," murmured Harry, turning away slightly. "Um, so have a nice time in Hogsmeade." 

_There_ , thought Severus. _Not leaving on an angry note, after all._

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, August 22, 1998 ---- 12:45 p.m.**

"Thirty Galleons," said Severus, shrugging to agree to the price. He preferred to go to Diagon Alley, or even farther afield when he was purchasing some of the more unusual ingredients he needed, but the apothecary in Hogsmeade was perfectly adequate for common items. Of course, he could just as easily have had them owled in, but he'd felt the need for a walk. 

Or perhaps, he'd merely hoped that Harry would come out with him. Truth to tell, Severus was missing their trips abroad. Missing the chance to spend time alone with Harry, away from the castle and all its memories. There was no reason why they couldn't have another holiday, of course. A day here or there was feasible, even with September first just around the corner. But Harry hadn't shown any interest in going. First he'd been too ill, and then that awful apathy had taken over. That seemed to be fading now, somewhat, but a strong interest--almost obsession--with doing well in his job had taken its place. If he wasn't off to check whether Bryerson needed any help, then he was upstairs working on the summary the Defence professor had set him. 

A bit ironic, that. If Harry had ever put as much time and effort into his potions assignments, he'd have . . . 

_No_ , Severus thought. He wasn't going to complain, even to himself, about Harry's abysmal grasp of potions. He did have an O.W.L. in the subject, after all. Ordinary Wizarding Level, emphasis on Ordinary. But it served most purposes a wizard might need. Besides, whingeing on about the matter was a bit like what Harry had been doing lately. Best not to moan about things that couldn't be changed. 

And Harry's level of interest in potions was simply not going to change. Severus had accepted that, just as he had accepted that the young man would continue to buy the most gaudy item available at any given tourist stand. 

He scanned the receipt the clerk handed him, and scowled. "You left off the powdered lavender root." 

The clerk quickly tapped his wand to the receipt to correct it. 

Severus inspected it again, this time nodding. Not that it really mattered, but he submitted receipts such as these to Hogwarts, and he did prefer them to be correct. It wasn't too much to ask that the clerk do his job properly and thoroughly. 

He left the apothecary and headed down the side street that led back to the main thoroughfare, wondering if he should have lunch here or return to the castle to eat with Harry. 

Who very well might still be in a foul mood. Severus wished he could know. He _was_ , after all, supposed to have a mind bond with the young man. But it didn't work that way. Never had, as far as Severus had been able to tell. 

"Severus," said a warm voice slightly ahead of him. 

He glanced up to see a lean man standing in an open doorway, one hand still on the knob. Dark, shoulder-length hair. High cheekbones. Blue eyes framed by thick lashes. 

The face was familiar, though Severus had never expected to run into this particular man here. Or ever again, really. "Renard." 

The man pursed his lips a little. "I wondered when I might see you." 

The response brought back memories, which was probably Renard's intention. It was one of man's stock lines, and it meant only one thing. All Severus had to do now was negotiate price, and he'd be welcomed inside to spend an hour or two sampling the pleasures Renard had to offer. But that had been in Inverness, where Severus wasn't nearly as well known. 

Not that there was anything wrong with visiting a prostitute, of course. It was a perfectly acceptable way for a man without attachments to spend his time and money. Still, Severus had always preferred to conduct his liaisons away from the prying eyes of students or colleagues. Those early years of working as a spy had taught him caution. 

There was less need for it now that his true loyalties were known to the Dark Lord . . . but still, the habit remained. 

"You've moved here to work?" asked Severus, trying to make the question non-committal. 

Renard looked him up and down, his gaze slightly hungry. Like he wanted him. 

Severus knew that look. He'd seen Renard use it before, both on him and other customers. The only thing Renard was really hungry for was a few Galleons for an hour of his time. 

Even knowing that it was false, however, Severus' cock twitched. He wanted Harry to look at him like that. And since Harry never would . . . well, Severus was human, wasn't he? It was pleasant to have _somebody_ giving him that sort of appreciation. 

Or pretending to. 

"I wanted to get away from Muggles for a while." 

That made sense, as Severus had heard that the Muggle world was less tolerant of those who made their living with their bodies. A patently stupid view, in Severus' opinion. It was legal to have sexual relations with a perfect stranger as long as one wasn't paid for it, apparently. But the moment money changed hands, a crime had been committed? 

No-one was about, but obviously remembering Severus' habit of keeping his business to himself, Renard dropped his voice before he continued, his tones coated with velvet. "I also thought I might see you." 

Severus answered in a hearty tone, even as he started walking forward again. "And so you have. Well, I have business to attend to back at the castle, so--" 

"I'll see you a little later?" 

It would be a lie to say he wasn't tempted. Of course he was. Renard was good at what he did. Severus knew that first hand. And it had been a long time since Severus had got any sort of offer. From anyone. 

But no. Stepping into a Hogsmeade brothel would be a mistake. He might be seen. And Renard wasn't the one he really wanted, anyway. He'd wait until Harry was ready, again. 

"I don't think so, Renard." 

Severus walked away and didn't look back. But all the way down the lane, he could feel the warm weight of Renard's gaze caressing his back. 

  
  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, August 25, 1998 ---- 10:44 a.m.**

Harry had expected Bryerson to just take the write-up and read it later, but instead the man waved Harry into a chair and said they'd go through his summary together. "In case I've any questions," he'd added. 

It had only taken him fifteen minutes to start shaking his head. "This is almost unbelievable, Potter." 

"Well, I tried to be impartial, but . . ." 

"Difficult, I should imagine," murmured the other man. "Only one decent professor in seven years? Well, I can certainly see why you felt the need to start that after-hours Defence class. So perhaps the students aren't as ill-prepared as this would indicate." 

Harry bit his lip as it suddenly occurred to him that despite his best efforts, he hadn't been as thorough as he should have been. "Oh. I . . . er, I didn't write down what we covered in D.A. That's what we called it. Do you want a summary of that one as well?" 

"Only if you're willing. You should try to enjoy what remains of your holiday, Potter." 

"Oh, it's no trouble," said Harry eagerly. "You do want to be prepared. I'm glad to help." 

"We," corrected Bryerson. "We want to be prepared. So, have you considered the class schedule?" 

"Yeah. I can help with first through fifth--" 

"Mmm, I've been thinking about that. With the number of hours you're likely to be out on the pitch, it's best for you to assist with just the first through fourth years, I think." 

"Oh, but I love Defence. I'd like to spend as much time on it as possible." 

"I can see why the headmaster thinks so highly of you," said Bryerson, though he was shaking his head. "You clearly want to do well, here. But you mustn't take on too much to start, Potter." 

"I can manage." 

Bryerson gave him a bit of a critical look, then. "Are you intending to give combined Quidditch lessons, or separate ones by house?" 

Harry blinked. "Uh, well, I'm supposed to coach the teams, you know. So it has to be by house, I think." 

"My thought as well. That's four extra classes, then." 

Harry hadn't thought of it quite like that, but he could see that Bryerson had a point. 

"So for Defence, best to start with first through fourth, then. We can always have you come assist with the fifth years later, if you find you've the time. But don't forget, you need to allow yourself a chance to plan your Quidditch lessons, as well as carry them out." 

Another good point, and Harry really appreciated Bryerson looking out for him like that. Perhaps that was what helped him admit, "Er . . . I haven't even started planning things out. I mean, I've been reading some books and getting some ideas, but . . ." Harry lifted his shoulders. "I played plenty of Quidditch here, but we never had a coach, really. Just a team captain, and he was a student, not staff. So I guess I don't even know where to start." 

Bryerson smiled. "I know the feeling. Now, for Defence, I thought I'd start everyone but the first years with a test." 

Harry remembered Lockhart doing that, but had a feeling that Bryerson's test wouldn't be about his favourite colour. "Oh, to see how well they learned what was already covered?" 

"Exactly. Once I know where things really stand, I'll revise my lesson plans accordingly." Bryerson nodded. "You might consider doing the same in your coaching duties. But then again, you were playing here last year so you probably already have a fairly good assessment of what each house team can do." 

He did, but he still liked the first-day-test idea. Not that his coaching would start on the first day of term. It took a couple of weeks, at least, for teams to be selected. He wouldn't be involved in that, though he wished he could be, when it came to Gryffindor. 

But no, that wouldn't be right, he reminded himself. He was staff now. He was supposed to be impartial, and help all the teams equally. Not to mention, Severus would have a fit if Harry tried to give Gryffindor an advantage Slytherin wasn't getting. The man might not think very highly of Quidditch, but he did want his house to win. Every time. 

Harry wrinkled his nose. What if he did his best to be fair, but Slytherin still lost its matches? 

Well, he'd face that when and if it happened, he decided. 

But at least his Quidditch lessons weren't going to start straight away. He thought of explaining that to Bryerson, but then decided that he'd just been given some good advice. He did need time to plan his lessons, especially since he was new to coaching. 

"So what do you plan to do for the first-years' first lesson?" 

Bryerson pulled a piece of parchment towards him. "I thought case studies. Situations in which Defence skills become important. I remember thinking I always learned better when I understood why I needed to learn something. The Muggleborns in particular may not have much idea why they need to master these skills." 

_Not just the Muggleborns,_ Harry thought, remembering his own first, confusing days at Hogwarts. "Um, can I ask, do you know that because you're a Muggleborn?" 

"Half-blood," answered Bryerson with a shrug. 

"Me too," said Harry. "Well, sort of. I mean, I was raised by Muggles, so it's great you're thinking of what might help the students who aren't so familiar with magic. I think they get overlooked a lot. Case studies are a really good idea. But they need to be . . . uh, things a first-year could understand." 

"Care to help me dream up a few situations?" 

Harry grinned. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of a few." 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, August 29, 1998 ---- 1:20 p.m.**

"I'm a bit surprised you never once asked after these," said Severus as he slid an envelope across the table. 

"Hmm?" Harry didn't really react until he picked it up and noticed the seal, Severus thought. "Oh. Well, I guess I forgot they were supposed to be coming. I mean, it's not like it matters how many N.E.W.T.s I might have earned, does it? Considering." 

"We had this discussion before, as I recall." Severus had been tempted to open the envelope himself, just in case Harry's test results were a catastrophe, but he'd decided that treating Harry that way--as less than an adult, indeed--would only lead to more anger and resentment. "The information is valuable for your own reference, to show you your magical strengths and weaknesses." 

"I didn't need a test to tell me I was terrible at brewing," muttered Harry. "Oh, well. Nothing for it, I suppose." 

When he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, he showed no reaction at all for a moment. Then he laughed, very softly. "I guess I really will have to get Hermione those flowers, now." 

Severus just arched an eyebrow. 

Harry looked up, his smile a little bitter. "It's just that she told me for years and years that I should relax when I had to take a test. But I never could, not until the N.E.W.T.s came around. By that time, I knew I couldn't become an Auror, no matter the results. So I didn't tense up and second-guess myself . . . Bit ironic that the secret to scoring high is not to care if you do." 

Severus frowned. "But you didn't care about your score in potions, did you? So why didn't your strategy work during the practical?" 

Harry's expression grew cynical. "I can't ever relax around that subject, Severus. You saw to it, year after year. The sight of a cauldron makes my stomach clench." 

"But surely on the written test--" 

"Ha," interrupted Harry. "I earned a T on that as well. Trust me on that. Though these results make it look as though I didn't attempt a N.E.W.T. in Potions. It's not listed anywhere." 

"Your exam must have been invalidated because you never completed the practical," murmured Severus. 

"You said the proctor had decided I'd already failed!" 

Severus cast his mind back to that evening. Most of what he remembered was the rage he'd felt when he'd seen his destroyed classroom. His suspicion that Harry had done it on purpose. The suspicion had quickly faded when he'd seen the young man's ashen face, but the anger had remained. "I may have exaggerated. I wasn't in the best frame of mind. The proctor did say you wouldn't be allowed to re-sit the practical, which I suppose I interpreted as failure." 

Harry sighed. "I don't suppose it makes much difference, really. I always knew my potions N.E.W.T. was going to be a disaster." 

"Yet you performed well enough on your O.W.L." Severus paused for a moment, thinking that he should have asked this question a good deal sooner. "How did you manage that?" 

"Well, it wasn't by relaxing, certainly." Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Umbridge was really determined to keep me from becoming an Auror, and I knew I couldn't let her get away with it. Seems like a lot of wasted effort, now. Just think, I could have skipped almost two years of class with you if I'd just known that Auror would be out of reach, anyway." 

Tossing the parchment to the table, Harry left the room. 

When Severus looked down, he saw that Harry had scored _Outstanding_ on every N.E.W.T. he'd taken. 

Not _Acceptable,_ not _Exceeds Expectations . . . Outstanding._

_Outstanding._

Severus felt his mouth drop open as he stared at the series of O's dotting the parchment. Incredulous, he picked it up and studied it more closely. 

A mistake, surely. 

_You're not brilliant,_ Severus remembered himself telling Harry once. _You're a young man of perfectly normal intelligence._

That had been in response to Harry's complaints that Severus thought him stupid. Severus had meant what he'd said: he didn't believe Harry to be the brainless dolt he'd sometimes called him. That was just the art of the insult. Harry had always reacted to such jibes, so of course Severus had kept making them, back then when he'd wanted more than anything to hurt James, a man beyond his reach. 

_Perfectly normal intelligence, though . . ._ That didn't quite cover it. A string of O's like this went a bit beyond what was typical even of diligent students. There was only one explanation, really, and it didn't depend entirely on Harry relaxing during his exams. He had to have known the material to begin with, before a lack of tension would become a factor. 

Harry must be brighter than Severus had thought. A good deal brighter. 

_Brilliant_ might be stretching the point, but Harry certainly couldn't be a poor scholar, not and attain marks like these. To earn _Outstanding_ in so many different domains took more than magical talent; it took dedication and intellect. The main requirements for success in Potions, actually. 

If things had gone differently, perhaps Harry might have been able to do well in Potions as well. The potential must be there, if the young man had been capable of mastering the other major branches of magic. 

But somehow, Harry just hadn't been able to tolerate the subject, not with Severus as a teacher. Not when he was being taunted and belittled on a regular basis. But what else could Severus have done? From the moment Harry had entered his classroom, Severus had scarcely opened his mouth in class without wondering if his words would be repeated outside of Hogwarts. Hazards of teaching Death Eaters' children. Of course, the Dark Lord hadn't been an immediate threat during Harry's earliest years at Hogwarts . . . but even then, Severus had known that the Dark Lord might someday return. He'd have been foolish to be anything _but_ antagonistic towards Harry Potter. 

And the truth was that he'd wanted to be antagonistic. He'd felt entitled. James never had really paid for what he'd done. It had felt good to take that anger out on the son who'd looked so much like him. 

It didn't feel good now, though, to know that Harry had come to loathe brewing. If things had been different, it might have been something they had in common, or at least, something they could do together on occasion. 

Instead, Harry could barely stand the thought of peering into a bubbling cauldron. And given how bright Harry was, how capable of mastering a variety of magical domains . . . it probably needn't have turned out that way. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, August 31, 1998 ---- 7:35 p.m.**

Severus decided as he finished his second glass of wine that Harry's "Be there in a minute," hadn't been meant literally. A shame, since Severus was more than ready for dinner. He thought briefly about starting without Harry, but they'd been spending so little time together lately that he didn't want to give up a chance at conversation. 

Tossing his napkin down onto the table, Severus pushed back his chair and went through to his bedroom, and from there, through the magic doorway. Harry was in the upstairs sitting room, bent over the small table there, shaking his hand as though it ached from too much writing. 

Severus carefully stepped around the miniature Venice, which Harry had moved to the floor a couple of days earlier when he'd started to write out plans for his Quidditch lessons. Severus had already made the mistake of jostling it as he walked past. One experience of a tiny gondolier screaming abuse at him was enough, he thought. 

"You can ask the elves for another table, you know. Or even a desk." 

Harry glanced up, his brow furrowed as though it took him a moment to make sense of the remark. "Oh. Didn't think of it." 

"Perhaps you'd care to work downstairs," continued Severus, trying to make the comment come out lightly. He wasn't sure he had succeeded. "There's plenty of room." 

"I need to concentrate," murmured Harry, his gaze drifting back down to the several books had had open on the table. 

In other circumstances, Severus might have taken that as an encouraging sign. So Harry found the dungeons distracting, hmm? And why might that be? 

But he knew that wasn't what the other man had meant. 

A memory of Renard standing in the doorway to the brothel flashed across his mind. Renard's eyes, beckoning . . . except in Severus' memory, those eyes were green instead of blue. 

That was enough to tell Severus that however skilled Renard was, Severus would find him lacking. Perhaps not in the strictly physical sense . . . but he just wasn't what Severus really wanted. 

"You've been at that for hours," he told Harry. "You need to come eat." 

"Oh, good. Now I can't even decide for myself when to stuff food down my throat." 

"Fine. Starve." Severus turned around to go back downstairs, some part of him wondering if eye colour could make that much difference. 

A hand on his sleeve stopped him in mid-stride. 

"I'm sorry," said Harry. 

For a moment, Severus didn't believe that, but then he remembered that the mind-bond would alert him to a lie. So it must be at least somewhat true. Somehow, that didn't make him feel less irritated. Harry must have sensed that, because he cleared his throat and went on. 

"I'm just . . . I'm just on edge, that's all. I don't mean anything, Severus. I . . . You've been all right. I don't mean to imply that you boss me around. It's just . . . this damned spell's going to keep me enslaved no matter how much freedom you give me inside it." 

Severus' irritation faded. How could it not, when he saw how much pain Harry was in? "I don't know what to tell you," he said softly, walking slowly back to the dining alcove in his library. "There isn't any solution or escape. You must just . . . accept, that certain things about the spell are set in stone." 

Harry sank down into a chair and downed the glass of wine waiting for him. "Yeah," he said thickly. "Yeah, I know. It was easier when all I had to do was learn to trust you. Ha, and if _that_ was easier . . . oh, never mind." 

Severus refilled Harry's glass and tapped the table to summon their meal. A change of subject was in order, he decided. Not all of Harry's upset, he felt sure, had strictly to do with the burden of living under _Cambiare Podentes._ "You've been working very hard on your lesson plans," he said casually. 

Harry drank some more wine before he answered. "Bryerson writes out pretty thorough plans for Defence. Made me think I'd better do something similar." 

"I'd think an academic course and a sports programme would be two different cauldrons, so to speak." 

"In some ways," said Harry, leaning his chin on a palm. "But they both have sort of a . . . uh, what's the word Bryerson used? A scaffold of skills, you know, like a ladder you have to climb. You can't get to the top rung without getting past the lower ones. That's how he explained it. And I think that applies to Quidditch. You have to learn to bank and turn before you can fly upside-down . . ." 

Severus nodded and swallowed a bit of roasted potato. "Sounds reasonable." 

"So I've been trying to decide the sequence of skills, and then trying to apply that to how I approach a given lesson." Harry sighed. "But until the teams are organised I won't even know how much time I'll have with each. Albus says to work that out with the captains. And . . . well, no offence, but I'm not sure any of the Slytherins will listen to anything I have to say, anyway." 

Severus could well remember having similar concerns when he first took on teaching as a profession. Harry's anxieties were no doubt worse, since he didn't have the advantage of a couple of years away from school. He'd be returning to virtually the same group of students who had known him when he was a student himself. 

Severus had dealt with the matter by presenting such a harsh, cold demeanour that few students would dare talk back to him. He doubted Harry would want to follow that strategy. But there were others, of course. 

"If anyone disputes your authority as a member of the staff, take points," he said calmly, hiding a smile at the look on Harry's face. 

"Take points." Harry shook his head. "I hated it when teachers did that. Most of the time it seemed unfair." 

Severus didn't have to ask him when _most of the time_ had been. No doubt Harry was thinking of Potions class. "Oh, but you're Harry Potter," he said in a solemn voice. "You wouldn't take points unfairly." 

Harry blinked several times, and then looked as though he was struggling not to smile. "Well, I'd try not to." 

"So take points--liberally if you must, at first, to make your point--and the students will soon begin to regard you as a teacher rather than a mate. And that's what you must have, if your lessons are to be successful." 

"I don't know . . . D.A. worked out all right with all of us in there just as friends." 

"You were the leader even then." 

Harry started eating. "Well, at least there's no danger the Slytherins will mistake me for their mate." He stilled, swallowing. "Um . . . oh, God. Are we going to have a fight every time I have to take points from Slytherin?" 

"Every time?" asked Severus in a deliberately dark voice. 

"I meant _if_." Harry's tone, though, said that he expected Slytherin to supply the bulk of any troubles he might have. 

"You're a colleague, as I said before." Severus shrugged. "You're entitled to use the point system, and as I indicated, I do believe you'd be fair and equitable about it. If you end up taking significant points from Slytherin, I'll tell my house they have to find a way to get along with you. And if they _don't_ . . ." This time when his voice went dark, there was no jest about it. "They'll have to answer to me." 

Harry stared at him curiously. "McGonagall never hassled us too much about _you_ taking points left and right." 

"She can run her house as she wishes." 

Harry nodded. 

"Don't forget you have other means of enforcing control, as well. Most notably, detention. You can assign as much as you feel is needed. And when it comes to Quidditch, you have additional options. Any truly recalcitrant player could be dismissed from his team. That will serve as quite a deterrent, I'd imagine." 

" _I_ can kick people off teams?" 

Severus cut another bite off his filet. "I would think so, since Quidditch is an optional activity. Do you really think that Albus would gainsay your decision?" 

"Huh, considering he _never_ interferes on behalf of a student, I guess not. It's just hard thinking of myself as one of the teachers." 

"So, between points, detentions, mandatory extra lessons, and the ultimate threat of removal from the team, I think you'll have few real problems." 

Harry smiled. "Maybe I can eat now. My stomach's been feeling like acid for a few days, I've been so worried." 

"You could have asked for a draught," said Severus, lifting his hand to summon a mild one. 

Harry drank it without commenting on the taste, then finished his meal, eating slowly. Finally he sat back and sighed. "Well, I should go back up and keep working, I guess--" 

"Tomorrow is the Welcoming Feast, not the first day of class. And your Quidditch lessons won't begin until mid-September, I expect. Why don't you relax for the rest of the night?" 

"I . . ." Harry glanced at the hallway, like he wanted to go back upstairs, but then he sighed. "That's probably a pretty good idea. I'll guess I'll work a bit on my sketches. Haven't looked at them in a while . . . I had this starburst one that was starting to look pretty good." 

Severus nodded, relieved that Harry hadn't sniped at him about being "ordered" to take an evening off. "Shall I read to you while you draw?" 

"Yeah. I've . . . er, I think I've missed that, the last few days." Harry leaned back in his chair. "But start something new. I'm sure I've lost track of . . . huh, can't remember what you were reading. Sorry." 

Severus half-grimaced, but decided there was likely a way to turn the remark to his advantage. "I'll begin a new novel on condition that from now on, we read a bit each night." 

"All right." Harry paused for a moment, making a bit of a face. "Unless my job interferes, I mean. Bryerson said I'd have to help mark the essays for first through fourth. Just spelling, punctuation, and grammar, though." 

" _Just_ spelling, punctuation, and grammar." Severus' nostrils flared. "Oh, that won't take any time at all." 

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in." 

"I assure you, reading student essays for actual content is no great joy, either." 

Harry tilted his head slightly to one side. "Really? I mean, not ever?" 

"I suppose there's an occasional pearl among the swine." 

"You really think you should call the students _swine?_ " 

"I was referring to their essays," said Severus, though he hadn't been, not really. 

"Sure you were." Harry was smiling a bit as he said it. "Just for that, you have to read Sherlock Holmes." 

"I'm sure I don't have any--" 

"Yes, you do. Spotted it a while back. So there." 

Severus allowed himself a small smile, then. The thought of Harry poring over his bookshelves, looking for something he might enjoy hearing . . . he liked the image. He liked it more than he should, he thought. 

  
  
  
  



	22. Chapter 22

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, September 1, 1998 ---- 7:05 p.m.**

The first-years looked so _small,_ thought Harry as they filed in behind McGonagall. Small and excited. Practically bubbling over with it . . . though some of them also looked quite worried. One blonde girl in particular was almost in tears, and a brown-haired boy was shifting nervously from one foot to another. 

Harry tensed, remembering his own first night at Hogwarts. McGonagall had explained the Sorting Ceremony, briefly, but he'd hardly felt reassured. Everything had just been so strange and new. 

Well, at least this year Hogwarts would have one teacher who realised that Muggleborns might need a bit of extra support as they adjusted to the wizarding world. Harry glanced down the length of the table to the far end where Bryerson was sitting. A shame they couldn't sit next to each other, he thought. Harry could just imagine it . . . going over Defence plans each morning, and then every night, discussing how the lessons had played out . . . 

Instead, he was seated next to Severus. That wasn't terrible, of course. They got on well enough, these days. Or at least they did when Harry could remember to rein in his resentment about . . . well, about everything. _Sometimes_ Harry even thought that the two of them were friends, now. Of a sort. But friends or no, Harry didn't feel comfortable sitting here next to Severus, not with everyone looking on. Chatting with the man was out of the question. People would notice. The students, in particular. _Didn't Harry use to hate his guts?_ They'd ask each other that, definitely. Although yeah, probably Severus was right that they wouldn't make _too_ much of it, considering that both of them were on staff, now. 

But still, Harry couldn't imagine letting people realise that he was on fairly good terms with Severus, these days. 

Maybe Dumbledore had known that. It couldn't be a coincidence that Hagrid was sitting on Harry's other side, could it? This way, Harry had someone to talk with. 

Harry forgot about himself as the Sorting Hat began its song, complete with the usual theme of house unity and strength in diversity. He perked up a little, though, when one verse seemed to stand out from all the rest. 

_Though challenge lurks 'hind every wall,_

_The valiant man shall give his all._

_The more we ask the more he gives,_

_So we must seek to see he lives._

Harry shivered all over, that last line clanging inside him. It seemed pretty clear, to him at least, that it referred to him. He didn't think of himself as _valiant_ all that often, but he was definitely giving his all. And it was also true that the wizarding world--or maybe just Dumbledore--kept asking more and more of him. 

But what was that last bit supposed to mean? _We must seek to see he lives . ._ Weren't his crossed powers supposed to make sure he came out of the final battle not just victorious but alive? He'd never really considered that he might have gone through all this only to die defeating Voldemort. 

Harry shook his head slightly. He remembered almost wanting to die, back around his birthday. In fact, if he thought too much about how awful he'd felt then, it was like a whirlpool opened inside him and tried to suck him in. And Harry didn't want to go there again, to that horrible dark place where thoughts of _slave, slave, slave_ overshadowed everything else. 

He couldn't let himself be sucked in, not again. 

Of course not, he thought, his lips twisting. He had to be this "valiant man" the Hat had just mentioned. And wasn't that creepy, really? Even the Sorting Hat knew about his predicament. Harry didn't like that. Not one bit. 

But there was nothing to be done about it. Well, at least the other teachers didn't have any idea. Apart from Severus and Albus, only Binns knew the truth. Harry didn't know how he'd deal with McGonagall finding out. 

Someday, though, he'd have to face it. He'd known that even before he'd heard the Hat's new song. 

Or rather, he'd have to face it if he lived long enough. 

"All right?" asked Severus, sounding like he was speaking out of the side of his mouth. 

"Yeah," said Harry shortly. He shifted over in his chair, just a little, moving more toward Hagrid. But then he froze, wondering if _Cambiare Podentes_ would punish him for wanting to get away from Severus. He wasn't supposed to want a thing like that, he knew. 

Severus must have realised how uncomfortable Harry was feeling. He didn't say another word as the sorting progressed, not even when McGonagall's strident voice called out a name Harry definitely wasn't expecting to hear. 

"Charles Bole!" 

_Bole?_ For a moment that seemed to stretch out, Harry was filled with a blinding rage so hot he actually felt scorched. When his vision cleared, he saw that the stool was occupied by the brown-haired boy he'd noticed before. The boy didn't look worried now, though, Harry thought, his fists clenching. So what if the boy's upper lip was quivering, just a bit? He was probably smirking. Slytherins did that, and Charles _Bole_ had just been sorted into Slytherin. 

Of course. Where else would he belong? 

Harry felt his own lips beginning to twist. Bole there even looked quite a bit like his older . . . brother, cousin? He hadn't noticed at first since the boy had been so far away. But now, with Bole just feet away from the head table, the resemblance was unmistakable. The same hair, the same eyes, the same basic features . . . 

Harry wanted to lunge from his seat and _pummel_ him. He was probably just like the rest of his family. Cruel, brutal, headed toward being a Death Eater. Proud of it, probably. 

Harry hated him at first sight, and the fact that he _wasn't_ the man who had hurt him made no difference at all. Not even the fact that Severus had killed that man helped. So what if the older Bole was dead? _This_ little version of him was alive, and here, and Harry couldn't stand the sight of him. 

He barely heard Dumbledore's opening-of-term remarks. Didn't even realise he'd just been introduced as a new staff member, not until Hagrid jostled him rather roughly and said, "Go on, then, Harry." 

Harry turned at stared at him blankly. Go on and do what? 

Severus' hand, surreptitiously tugging on his robe under the table, told him what to do. It was an upward motion. And everybody was looking at him, though not because they could see Severus being so familiar. Their faces were more . . . expectant. 

Oh, stand up. That was probably what Severus was trying to tell him. Harry rose to his feet, feeling completely stupid. It must be obvious that he hadn't been listening to a word the headmaster had said. 

Several students near the far end of the Gryffindor table were holding their hands over their mouths, like they were trying not to laugh. Seventh-years. His friends. 

Ginny was with them, but she wasn't laughing. Her expression as she stared across the distance at Harry looked more stricken than anything else. _Ron must have told her,_ Harry thought. _About me liking blokes._

Well, he was sorry if she was hurt by that. He knew how it felt to have a dream snatched away. Not that he thought he ought to be anybody's dream, but Ginny had always seemed to look at him that way. Harry sighed a little as he took his seat again. He wished she wouldn't be so unhappy about the way things had turned out. 

No sense in them both being miserable, after all. 

He tried paying attention then, to the rest of Dumbledore's speech. Good thing, too. Bryerson was being introduced. Harry perked up a bit, eager for more details about the man. Unfortunately, the headmaster didn't say much beyond what Harry already knew. 

And then the headmaster was through at last. Great heaps of food appeared in front of Harry. Portions in the Great Hall were always generous, of course. Harry was grateful for that. But these platters were truly gargantuan. 

Oh, for Hagrid. Harry helped himself to a plump portion of roast chicken, leaving most of it for the giant at his side. 

As students and staff began to eat, the hall grew ever noisier. 

"I should have warned you," Severus said in a low voice. 

Harry flinched and glanced left and right. Nobody was paying them any mind, though. Students would occasionally glance up at him, but they weren't staring or anything. 

No need to ask what Severus should have warned him about. Harry felt the anger rise within him again. He clenched his teeth as his eyes sought out the horrible boy at the near end of the Slytherin table. "You knew." 

"Only his name. I saw the roster of letters being sent out, a few weeks back." 

"Yeah, well thanks for letting me know," muttered Harry. 

"I had no idea he would resemble his brother." 

"I don't want to talk about it," said Harry. Turning in his chair, he faced Hagrid more and asked him if he'd seen any interesting creatures lately. 

Severus made a clicking noise with his teeth, but didn't say anything more about Charles Bole. Not then, and not later that night, either. They left the Welcoming Feast separately, of course. Harry went to the upstairs rooms and paced, his fingers curling into claws every time he saw Bole's face in his mind's eye. Either Bole. It didn't matter. 

Eventually, though, he knew he had to go to bed. He changed into pyjama bottoms, hanging up the robe Severus had given him. He'd felt so grown up and capable when he'd put it on earlier that evening. Now, he just felt flayed. He didn't want to be a teaching assistant, not if it meant seeing Charles Bole every time the first-years had Defence. 

Well, at least he wasn't too likely to be on the Slytherin Quidditch team. First-years really weren't supposed to play. 

Sighing, Harry stepped through the magic doorway and into Severus' bedroom. 

"I don't want to talk about it," he said again, before the other man could get a word in. 

Severus just nodded and pulled the covers back in invitation. Harry crawled in on his usual side and faced the wall, his whole body tense with anger. And not just at Charles Bole. Severus should have told him this was coming. Brimming with anger, Harry knew then that he didn't want to sit with Severus for meals any longer. 

"Can't I sit with Bryerson when I eat in the Great Hall?" he asked, hating the fact that he _had_ to ask. "I might need to, you know, talk with him about how class is going, that sort of thing." 

Severus didn't answer for a moment, and then finally said in a low tone, "If you're so worried about people gossiping that you can't bring yourself to talk to _me_ in front of others, then I hardly think it will help to have your post obviously coming to my place at the table. You need to be next to me so that it seems it's being delivered to you." 

"Oh." Harry had forgotten about the mail. Though how he could have was a good question, wasn't it? He couldn't even get things owled to him. Owls, and now the Sorting Hat . . . probably every kind of magical being knew that he wasn't his own person any longer. Knew that he was a slave. 

The elves probably knew, too . . . but Dumbledore had done something to keep them from talking to anyone about it. Even students, Harry presumed. 

He sighed, and resigned himself to sitting with Severus for everyone to see. And then he started thinking about the morning, the start of classes. The start of his new job. A job he'd had no training for, really. Sure, he was a fair hand at Defence, but that didn't mean he was in any way prepared to help teach it. What if he disappointed Bryerson? What if the students wouldn't listen to him? What if that horrible child was in class? Wait, no . . . the first-years didn't have Defence on Wednesdays. But they did have it. Twice a week. 

That night, it was a long, long time before Harry managed to sleep. 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, September 2, 1998 ---- 8:55 a.m.**

No post had come for him at breakfast, Harry thought as he made his way to the Defence classroom. Letters didn't usually come that early in the morning, and Severus knew it. So there was no harm in Harry sitting by someone else. 

There was also no point in bringing it up again, Harry knew. 

Oh, well. At least the fact that Harry was sitting next to Severus didn't seem to mean anything to anyone. He wasn't getting strange looks from the students, not even the ones who knew how much he hated Severus. 

How much he _had_ hated Severus. He didn't hate him any longer. Just as well. The spell would probably punish him if he did, thought Harry sourly. Though the contract didn't say anything about his feelings, Harry knew. Only his actions. Or _in_ actions, like failing to hand his investment income over to Severus the minute he found out about it. 

In the circumstances, Harry supposed he was pretty lucky that Severus wasn't being demanding in bed. Because Harry really couldn't refuse, could he? _That_ was in the fucking contract, too. _To be not just slave but body-slave, subject to the master wizard's every desire._

A horrible chill passed over his spine. Oh, God. If Severus were a different kind of man . . . actually, if he were thekind of man Harry had assumed at first, life would be just unbearable, wouldn't it? 

Definitely, he didn't hate Severus. Not even over the Bole thing any longer, because really, the other things Severus had done were more important. Severus had been good to him, again and again. Really good. And he could be good company. Severus was a friend, Harry thought. Well, if someone that old could be called a friend. 

But yes, Severus was. And Harry hadn't been very good company himself, lately, had he? Maybe he should do something to make amends. Buy the man another present, maybe. He could get something the next time he went into Hogsmeade . . . 

A line of second-years were milling about in the hall when Harry reached Defence. Old habits almost had him joining them, but then he realised that he would look stupid, waiting there as if he needed permission to go into the classroom. Definitely not the way to begin his new duties. 

Harry strode past the children, pushed open the door, and walked to the front of the classroom. 

"Ah, Potter," said Bryerson as he emerged from his adjoining office. "That time already, is it?" 

He sounded like he was bracing himself for something. It took Harry a minute to understand that the man was trying to get his nerve up to face his students. Somehow, it made Harry less nervous to know he wasn't the only one almost dreading the start of class. 

"It'll be all right, Professor," he said quietly. Usually he didn't use Bryerson's title, but it seemed a good time to start. "So I'll let them in, then?" 

Bryerson checked his watch and sighed. "I suppose we must, yes." 

Later, Harry decided that his first day teaching--or assisting, rather--had gone fairly well. Of course, there was the usual problem that happened whenever people got close enough to see his scar. A lot of staring, and gasps, and murmured repetitions of his name. He was surprised, a bit, to get that from the second-years, since he'd been at school with them the year before. But then again, they hadn't really seen too much of him. Only during Quidditch matches, really. 

In general, though, he had a good enough day. The look on the students' faces when they were told they'd have a test straight away! Harry was less amused when Bryerson handed him the stacks of parchment at the end of class, and told him to mark the exams. 

"Just spelling, grammar, and punctuation?" 

"I'd also appreciate it if you'd note any glaring errors of fact. Though of course I'll give each a thorough read, as well." 

Harry had nodded, though privately he felt a bit dismayed. That faded when the next class got underway, and Bryerson gestured for him to use the time to start marking. So it looked like Harry's evening wouldn't be completely given over to his work. He thought that was very good of Bryerson. 

Harry ended up with only one set of tests left to be marked. It was too bad that by then, his brain felt mushy from reading too many idiotic answers. Maybe Severus wasn't so wrong to call it drivel, Harry thought, frowning. He could hardly believe the things the students wrote! You'd think it had been years since they'd taken Defence, not the few weeks that made up a summer holiday. One fourth-year had actually filled her parchment with a running series of jokes. What was worse was that they were really funny jokes. Harry had a hard time not laughing out loud. He actually bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep a straight face in front of the students. 

Harry could hardly wait to see what Bryerson would do about Flora Fartheringdale's test. She must have thought that Bryerson wouldn't really read it. Either that, or she'd noticed that the professor was rather good looking, and this was her strange way of trying to get him to notice her. 

Suddenly the jokes weren't funny at all. Harry clenched his jaw and read through them again, marking even the tiniest errors in spelling or grammar. There, that was better. Flora Fartheringdale's test didn't look impressive at all now, did it? 

"I think Hogwarts might have a supply budget, Potter," said Bryerson under his breath as he paused by Harry's table near the front of the room. "Don't use all the red ink, eh?" 

Harry felt his face heating, and wasn't sure if it was because that was close to a rebuke, or because he'd just realised that Bryerson actually smelled pretty good. It wasn't a cologne spell, either. More a clean, masculine scent. The man himself. 

Harry hurriedly moved on to the next test, nodding to show that he'd understood. 

  
  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, September 10, 1998 ---- 7:02 a.m.**

Harry shifted in the bed, vague images chasing across his mind as he began to wake up. Dreams, that was it. He couldn't remember anything about them, not quite, but it seemed like they'd been pleasant. 

Or more than pleasant, perhaps, because Harry's first real thought as the veil of sleep parted was to realise that he was hard. Really hard. He blinked, thinking at first that he must be imagining it. It seemed like forever since he'd woken up with an erection. Or since he'd been able to get rock-hard all on his own, without the help of one of Severus' potions. 

He pushed up on his elbows to look, his mouth dropping open at the sight of the covers tenting out. 

His next thought was relief. There'd been a lot of times in the past few months when he'd wondered if he was ever going to get back to normal. Actually, he'd been convinced, more or less, that that part of him had just . . . died, really. Like it was attached, but useless. Sometimes he'd even thought maybe it was better that way, because after London, and then what he'd gone through on his birthday, he couldn't imagine wanting anything sexual, ever again. 

But clearly, his body could. 

Beside him in the large bed, Severus rolled over. Toward him, like most mornings. 

This wasn't most mornings, though. Harry knew the exact moment when the other man opened his eyes and saw the condition Harry was in. Severus' whole body stiffened slightly. 

_Stiffened._ Wrong word to think. It only made Harry even more aware of his cock. 

"Good morning," said Severus, his deep voice sounding pleased. _Very_ pleased. 

"Morning," replied Harry, rushing the word out as he sat up completely and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He felt better now that his back was to Severus. It wasn't like he thought the other man would see his erection and immediately leap on him or anything, but he suddenly couldn't bear to lie there in their bed. It was too . . . suggestive, maybe. And Harry didn't care what his cock was saying--ha, saying loud and clear--he wasn't ready for anything. 

Harry couldn't face it. Didn't even want to think about it. 

If Severus picked up on his mood, he sure didn't show it. "Perhaps a shower," the man said slowly, sounding like he was savouring the words. "Together?" 

It was a suggestion Harry was used to, given that he heard it nearly every morning. He'd decided a long time ago that Severus must have a shower fantasy. And Harry could understand that, actually. It would be difficult not to, since he remembered everything that had happened in the ritual bath. 

Remembering didn't help, though. "No, no," he refused, his palms going damp. And not in a good way. Panic was racing along his veins, his heart pounding, feeling like it was working twice as hard as usual. At the same moment, his cock began to go limp. Proof, as if Harry needed any, that he _wasn't_ ready to actually do anything about his arousal. Maybe he would never be ready. 

The feeling that he was dead down there, that he was never going to get better, seemed to fill his whole head, then. God, was he even a man, still? Well, yes, obviously he was, but sometimes it seemed like those bastards in London had taken that away from him, too. 

"I can't," whispered Harry, feeling like he had to say something more. Explain, somehow. But he didn't know what to say, especially not after the things he'd been thinking about the day before, about how lucky he was that Severus had turned out to be a decent man. Or more than decent, really. A good man. 

Harry felt his throat tighten. He almost wanted to apologise for being so bloody pathetic, but that was stupid. It wasn't like he owed Severus. Well, maybe he did, considering that damned sex clause in the slavery contract, but he didn't want to owe him. That was no good reason to be in bed with someone. Even if it _was_ the reason Harry was sleeping in Severus' bed every night. 

For one blinding moment, Harry was suddenly sure that the spell was going to punish him for even thinking that. His mouth went dry with panic. He was supposed to owe Severus, after all. And believe he owed him, or something like that. Definitely, he wasn't supposed to be thinking that he didn't want to be in this position at all. 

Harry braced himself for those awful convulsions to start, but nothing happened. Not even a tremor. 

So maybe there _was_ something important about the idea that the spell had been designed for lovers, he thought with relief. Maybe the spell just assumed that if you could invoke it successfully, desire was already there. 

And so what if it wasn't? Even men who were lovers couldn't be in the mood all the time. So that made sense, then. 

That conclusion made him feel a bit better, but only in one sense. Just because he didn't want to _owe_ Severus didn't mean he wanted to make things difficult for him. It had been a long time since Severus had got any, and he hadn't exactly made a secret of how much he wanted some, had he? With Harry. If Harry turned around now, he'd see Severus' morning erection. No doubt about it. And here was Harry, unable to really hide the fact that the mere mention of a shared shower had killed his own erection. Severus wouldn't take it personally, would he? Harry didn't want to hurt him, or anything. 

The minute he thought that, Harry wanted to whack himself in the forehead. God, what a complete joke. _He didn't want to hurt Severus . . ._ As if he could. As if he _ever_ could. Decent man or no, this was still Severus Snape. Sure, he had feelings. That much was obvious. But he was hardly going to care much what _Harry_ thought of him, one way or another. 

"We'd better get up," said Severus, his voice rough. Rasping, almost. Or maybe curt. "I'll go shower, then." 

Harry nodded as he sat there, a blanket bunched around his hips. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, September 10, 1998 ---- 12:23 p.m.**

Breakfast and lunch had seemed strained to Harry, which was odd, wasn't it? It wasn't like he wanted Severus to talk to him in front of everyone. The old saying about being careful what you wished for came to mind. Sure enough, ever since term had started, Severus hadn't spoken to him during meals in the Great Hall. Not one word. 

And somehow, that had been worse than worrying that the students would notice them talking. 

It had been a relief when, half-way through lunch, the owls had sailed in to deliver the day's post. A letter had fallen to the table, approximately in front of Severus, who had reached forward as if to grasp hold of the salt cellar. The flowing sleeve of his robe had pushed the letter towards Harry, the manoeuvre executed so naturally that nobody could have noticed him passing the post. 

Harry had snatched the letter up, grateful for something else to do besides sit there listening to how . . . _silent_ Severus could be. But not even Hermione's chatty comments could really distract him from the man beside him. The angry man. Not seething or anything, but obviously not happy, either. 

_Well, at least it doesn't look like we're getting on, then,_ thought Harry, surprised at how glum the idea made him. He decided then that living with an annoyed Severus would be a lot worse than having students give them a few odd looks during meals. 

He'd actually turned in his chair to say something to Severus, only to see a billowing of black robes as the man strode to the far end of the dais and marched out through the hall to the doors at the far end. Severus looked to be in a hurry, Harry thought, a bit puzzled. But not too much of a hurry, since he had time to stop alongside the Gryffindor table and say something. Something cutting, judging from the way faces paled. 

_Points,_ Harry thought. _He's angry at me because of this morning, and he's taking points._

And sure enough, when Harry walked out to check the counters before heading toward Defence, Gryffindor was down fifteen points. 

That night, when Severus read out loud to him after dinner, Harry was the one who sat stiff and silent. Usually he enjoyed the habit they'd fallen into, both of them sitting on the settee, Harry leaning his head back and closing his eyes as Severus' deep, expressive voice washed over him. But tonight he couldn't hear the story through his irritation. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, September 14, 1998 ---- 7:14 a.m.**

Harry's early morning dreams were taking stronger shape every day, it seemed. Now, when he woke up, he was aware that they'd been more than merely pleasant. They were intense. Arousing. 

Sexual. 

He still didn't clearly remember them. Just images, that was all he had. Or snatches of images, really, but he knew he wasn't alone in the dreams. He was with someone. A man, his outline hazy. Nobody in particular, Harry thought, though the man was definitely taller than he was. 

He remembered kissing, the two of them standing up against a wall, Harry pressing the other man into it. Hands everywhere. Stroking. 

_Mmmm . . ._

Realising suddenly that his cock was in fact being stroked, Harry's eyes snapped open. 

Oh. It was his own hand down there. His own sleepy yet urgent hand, moving back and forth across his bare cock. Harry hurriedly yanked his hand out of his pyjama bottoms, but Severus had already seen. He was propped up on an elbow as he lay on his side, studying Harry, his dark eyes narrowed. He looked like he was calculating something. 

Oh, God. 

It wasn't that Harry was embarrassed. Though granted, he wasn't used to people watching him as he touched himself, either. It was the fact that he _hadn't_ been touching himself. Not as Severus obviously thought. 

Harry gulped. "Sorry," he said, but the moment he'd apologised, he started feeling angry. Not liking the way he was just lying there, flat on his back, Severus hovering over him like he might start yelling, Harry sat up and scooted backwards to lean against the headboard. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "You can stop looking at me like you're considering hexes, you know," he said, growing more angry by the second. "In the first place, I was fucking well asleep and couldn't help it, all right? Not like I planned to wake up doing that. And in the second place, I haven't, all right? Not once. Just like you said." He almost added a sarcastic _oh, lord and master_ but decided at the last second that Severus didn't deserve that. 

Black eyebrows rose. Both of them. "Not once?" 

Harry's lips twisted. "Your rules." 

Severus sat up as well, finally taking his eyes off the way Harry was tenting out the sheets. Harry stared straight ahead, determined not to look to see if they both were. 

"My rules," repeated Severus slowly, just as if he didn't know what Harry was talking about. 

And that steamed Harry, it really did. He'd been waking up hard--damned hard--every morning for days now. And now, not even Severus' suggestion that they shower together was enough to kill his erection. Though of course Harry always shook his head when Severus invited him to share. But it wasn't any fun waiting for his cock to stop throbbing every morning. And it certainly wasn't any fun having it stiffen up again on its own, at irritating points throughout the day. Good thing his trousers were snug and his robes loose. Otherwise, he couldn't even do his job! 

And it was all Severus' fault. 

"Yeah, _your rules,_ " Harry repeated, practically spitting the words. "Don't even touch yourself, you said! And I haven't, except today in my sleep, and if you can't understand that, then--" 

"Are you trying to tell me you haven't been masturbating?" 

Harry almost hit Severus, then. The question was asked like it was the most obvious thing in the world that Harry _should_ be doing that, when it was Severus himself who had forbidden it! 

"You know damned well I haven't!" 

"I know your ability to reason is clearly limited!" 

Severus sounded as angry as Harry, which was kind of strange considering what _he_ got up to in the shower every day. Every single day, Harry had a feeling. "Yeah, make fun of how stupid I am--" 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," muttered Severus, suddenly turning to grab Harry by both shoulders. He shook him, just one sharp jolt. And then he stilled, staring straight into Harry's eyes. "Don't change the subject. At least I know now why your mood has been so foul the past few days. Let's be clear, Harry. It's good to see you're starting to recover. As far as I'm concerned, the more you touch yourself, the better." 

Harry's eyes widened as Severus let go of his shoulders. Part of him couldn't even believe what he'd just heard. He'd lived by the _don't even pleasure yourself_ rule for so long that he hadn't ever expected it to be lifted. "You mean you don't mind? You used to. A lot." 

Severus' teeth appeared to clench for an instant. "I'd rather you were inclined toward something mutual. Obviously. But if you aren't, you aren't. Masturbation would at least be a step in the right direction." 

Harry still couldn't quite believe it. "And I can come, you mean?" 

Now Severus was the one looking like he'd just love to do something violent. "Yes. Unless you think my goal here is to make you be even more bad-tempered?" 

"I haven't been out of sorts--" 

"The hell you haven't." Severus' eyes glinted. "Any man would be, I suppose. I'm astonished you've kept to that so-called rule." 

"So-called! It's exactly what you said" 

"For before the invocation. I never intended it to apply afterwards." Severus' voice became a sardonic drawl. "And to think, you denied yourself on my say-so. I never took you for the obedient type, particularly." 

Harry saw red. He might be a slave, but it sure as hell didn't make him the obedient type. Not the way Severus meant. "I didn't want the spell to punish me again, you arse!" 

Severus stopped looking so amused, then. "Obviously that was a horrible experience. Frightening for--" 

"You think?" 

"Frightening for both of us," snapped Severus. 

Hmm, it probably had been. Harry felt a bit bad, then. He nodded. 

"But you can't live this way," continued Severus, his voice still hard. "Ever since your birthday, you've been seeing disaster around every corner. It has to stop." 

"You weren't the one who couldn't breathe." 

"I know." Severus paused as if frustrated. "Don't you see, though? Even if I _had_ ordered you never to masturbate, and you'd disobeyed me, the spell wouldn't have punished you. It wouldn't have been a violation of the contract. I thought you understood. It's up to me to enforce obedience in . . . lesser matters. And Harry . . .  I _won't_." 

Hearing it laid out like that, so bluntly . . . well, it was probably what he really needed to hear, Harry thought. He'd known before, of course, that Severus wasn't going to misuse his power and punish Harry or treat him the way his family might have. He'd known since before the invocation that Severus was better than that. But still, it was good to hear. Particularly after the spell itself had been so vicious. 

Harry laughed, a bit nervously. "Um . . . so I can just do whatever I want, as long as it won't break the contract? I can just ignore you . . . I mean, ignore whatever you tell me to do, completely?" 

"How much have I told you to do?" 

"Not much," admitted Harry. Another reason he had to be grateful to Severus, he knew. "But you didn't really answer my question." 

Severus' gaze on him was steady. Serious. He didn't answer straight away, which Harry took to mean that the man was really considering the matter. "You aren't a child to be chastised. You're a grown man with responsibilities, and crossing powers, I'm afraid, _will_ require that you obey and please me. I know you aren't about to ignore that." 

Huh, that sounded a lot like Severus trusted him, too. To do the right thing, no matter how hard it might be. For the first time in a long time, Harry started to feel like there might be some hope for them. Maybe it was the fact that he so obviously wasn't alone. He'd felt like he was, after his birthday. But it wasn't really true. He'd known that earlier, but he'd lost track of it. 

Or maybe things looked hopeful because now, Harry wouldn't have to keep ignoring the fact that he was waking up hard. He could do something about it. 

His erection had faded a bit as they'd talked, of course, but Harry thought it wouldn't take much to bring it back. Actually, just thinking _that_ made him harder. 

Getting up out of bed, he vaguely gestured toward the door which led upstairs. "I . . . yeah, you're right about crossing powers and all that. Er . . . so I think I'll have a shower and do what you suggested, then. See you at breakfast. Um, about meals . . . I shouldn't have acted like I didn't know you, I guess. It's all right if we talk a bit--" 

"Go and have your shower." 

Something about the way he said it made Harry feel terrible. Or maybe it wasn't the tone of voice at all, but just the fact that Harry knew how much Severus wanted them to shower together. "I'd join you in yours if I . . . er . . ." 

"Could bear it," finished Severus, a little impatiently. He abruptly stood up and wrapped a dressing gown around himself, moving stiffly. "But you can't. I don't like it, but for the moment, that's the way things are. We'll get through it. And in the meantime, the best thing you can probably do is indulge yourself. Perhaps I should be clearer, considering what you thought until this morning. I mean that you should--" 

"Masturbate, yeah. I knew what you meant." 

Severus waved for Harry to go. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, September 14, 1998 ---- 2:29 p.m.**

The past couple of days had been his best in a long, long time, thought Harry as he stood in front of the Defence class and watched the students file in. Getting up in the morning and being allowed to--encouraged to, really--pleasure himself made a huge difference to his mood. 

He'd actually wanked twice that first morning, and had slid into his seat at breakfast with barely any time left to eat. Severus had given him a knowing look, but after that had more or less started ignoring him. Like Harry had asked . . . except that Harry had already admitted that he'd changed his mind about that. 

_Stubborn git,_ Harry had thought, but without any real anger. Hard to be irritated with Severus. Or with anything, really, after such a long and satisfying shower. And anyway, Harry had been a bit of a git himself, about the meals thing. But he was done with that. By then, he'd decided it had been stupid and more than a little paranoid. So he got on with Severus and people knew it. The most it would say to anyone, students included, was probably that Harry was an adult now and mature enough to let go of the resentments he'd had as a student. Or pretend to, perhaps. 

"I can't stand rye," he said in a bright tone as he took the initiative and turned to Severus. "And rye with pumpkin butter is even worse." 

Severus' tea sloshed a little as he set his cup down, the motion abrupt. Harry thought surprise was written all over the uncharacteristic clumsiness, but the other man recovered quickly enough. "Don't eat it that way, then. You'll notice that I don't." 

"You're eating yours almost burnt." 

"Dark," corrected Severus. "Work here long enough, Potter, and the elves will note your preferences, as well." 

_Potter._ For one second only, Harry was taken aback. Then he remembered the students. Strange how he'd forgotten them for a little while. 

Before he could reply, Severus was saying that he had to prepare for his first class. He stood to leave. The same swirl of robes, the same determined stride through the length of the hall. But this time, he didn't stop by the Gryffindor table to take points. 

_It's all going to work out,_ Harry had thought. 

The mood had lasted throughout that day and right on through the next, Harry getting up early, he was so eager to hurry off to the upstairs shower. Good thing, too. He didn't think he should be late to breakfast every day. That was bound to look a bit odd, when people started noticing. 

Now, though, watching the Defence classroom fill with students, his good mood started to fade. And no wonder. This wasn't just another class where he'd stand politely off to the side until it was time to roam the class, helping students to practise the spells Bryerson had just discussed and demonstrated. _This_ was the class Charles Bole was in. And Harry had to be in it with him, every Tuesday and Thursday for the rest of the year. If he'd known--if Severus had warned him that Bole's nasty little brother was enrolling at Hogwarts--Harry would have told Bryerson that he'd skip the first-years' class. Awkward as it would have been, he thought he'd rather be assisting in Ginny's class than this one. As soon as Quidditch season got underway, he'd have to be near her anyway. So what did it matter? 

Harry gritted his teeth when he saw the small boy walking to the same desk he'd chosen the first day of class. Back row, all the way to the left. Right up against the side of the classroom, actually. _Like a criminal,_ thought Harry. _Back to the wall._

During previous sessions, Bole hadn't said much. He hadn't said anything at all, not even on the first day of class, when Bryerson's case studies had gone over brilliantly with everyone else. More than brilliantly. Gryffindors and Slytherins had so eagerly joined in the discussion that they'd seemed to forget house rivalries completely. But not Bole. He'd obviously thought he was better than everybody else. Too good to contribute. He was probably only interested in learning what could help _him_ be a better Death Eater. Or maybe he thought he knew it all, already. 

Harry's fists clenched as he remembered how angry he'd been. 

But he'd managed to keep his feelings to himself all through that class and the ones that had followed. That first day, he'd avoided Bole when it was time for the students to work in small groups, creating a case study of their own. Bryerson had asked Harry to roam, supervising and commenting as needed to keep the groups focussed on their task. It had been simple enough to walk in a meandering path among the desks, looking as though he was helping everyone, when in reality he kept veering away from Bole's group. 

Bole, of course, had sat there with his arms crossed, staring down at his own desk as conversations swirled around him. Every time Harry glanced that way, he got angrier. Good thing he _was_ avoiding Bole. The temptation to yell at him instead was roiling within Harry, growing stronger the longer the class went on. Yell, or something worse. Bole deserved worse. He was just like his brother; Harry could tell. Mean and cruel. It was all there in the way he wasn't talking to anyone, again. He was acting like his house mates didn't even exist. 

Harry gritted his teeth and moved away from that side of the room. Farther away, that was. 

Avoiding Charles Bole was even easier the next week, since both class sessions had consisted mainly of lecture and note-taking. Harry really just observed, his admiration for Bryerson growing by leaps and bounds the longer he watched. It would have been wonderful to have a teacher like him first year, instead of Quirrell. 

Harry glanced away from Bole and fixed his gaze on the other side of the room, nodding at the students as they entered and took their seats. He didn't look at Bole again. If Harry had his way, he'd ignore him for the next seven years. 

It was either that, or let the nasty little child know just what Harry thought of him. 

  
  
  
  



	24. Chapter 24

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, September 19, 1998 ---- 9:12 a.m.**

Harry's hair was damp as he sat down at the small table in the reading room. But then, it should be, thought Severus, almost snorting. Harry was turning the long shower into some kind of art form. 

Severus wouldn't mind that at all, of course, if Harry would just invite him in. Even if it was only to look and not touch. He'd love to watch Harry stroke himself. His mouth watered just imagining the sight. Harry leaning against the wall, water streaming over his taut, fit body, his head thrown back, his lips gasping as he brought himself closer and closer to orgasm, and then brought himself off . . . 

But Harry wasn't ready. Not even for something as harmless as Severus watching him come. 

It was good that the young man was finally getting back to normal, certainly. Severus had meant what he'd said; masturbation _was_ a step in the right direction. It was just difficult for Severus to endure, knowing that Harry was probably moaning as he climaxed, and Severus didn't even get to hear it. 

Actually, just seeing Harry wake up so hard every morning was difficult for Severus. He was a normal enough man. His handsome young lover wanted sex--or at least his body did. It made Severus crave everything he'd been denying himself for so long. 

Mornings were becoming more and more of a challenge. Severus wanted to pull Harry into his arms and kiss him until he'd forget what had happened to him in London. Until nothing mattered to Harry but the ache in his own cock. Severus would touch him, then. Drive him mad with pleasure until shudders wracked him as he came. 

Severus would make Harry _his_ , so unmistakably that Harry would only ever think of Severus when it came to sex. 

But of course, Severus wasn't actually reckless enough to do any of that. Not after all Harry had been through. A vicious rape. Repeated rapes, actually. And then sex under _Compulsio_ , that time at the hands of the man who was supposed to protect and care for him. To Harry, that experience had been close to another rape. He'd never said so, but Severus knew, all the same. Harry had asked Severus to do it, and had promised never to complain. A promise he'd been keeping. 

But none of that changed the fact that force had been involved. 

Their next time together had to be completely consensual. No hint of force. Not even a trace. Harry had to be the one to initiate. To choose. _To want Severus instead of his own hand._

Anything else would make a mockery of everything Severus had vowed, both to Harry and himself. Meeting all Harry's needs . . . it was more of a trial than Severus had expected. But it was also the only way to navigate the strange waters the spell had tossed him into. _Not_ meeting Harry's needs, even this one, really didn't bear thinking about. 

A miserable slave, no matter how determined, would simply not be able to cross powers. Severus was convinced of it. 

And too . . . Severus didn't want Harry to be miserable. 

None of that helped him solve his own problem, however. An increasingly urgent problem, pun intended. Morning showers were well and good when one lived alone. Or even when one lived with a partner who was to all intents and purposes impotent. But that wasn't the case any longer. Harry was young and randy and very, very desirable. He was coming every morning. Or more often, since sometimes Harry disappeared just after dinner and didn't come down to the dungeons until much later. When he did arrive, he would sit flopped in a chair, looking languid, his eyes closed as he listened to Severus reading. 

A tiny smile would curl the young man's lips. Like he was replaying a delicious memory, over and over. 

Sometimes he would even stroll in whistling, though that had tapered off after Severus had glared. Severus hadn't been able to help it. As Harry's mood improved, his own was growing worse. Living with an aroused Harry was something close to torture at the moment, and it was going to take more than showers to get him through this. After all, there was no telling just how long it would take before Harry was interested in more than masturbation. 

That wasn't Harry's fault, and it was only to be expected, but Severus still found himself growing surlier every day. 

He should have taken Renard up on his offer, Severus was starting to think. It would have been the considerate thing to do, in the circumstances. The best thing for Harry, as well. Because then, Severus could get some much-needed relief. He could make absolutely certain that he didn't press Harry in any way . . . that's all he would be doing. A man sometimes needed to go elsewhere, Severus decided, nodding slightly. If his partner were ill for a long while, for example. No good lover would expect satisfaction at home, and since self-imposed deprivation could only lead to resentment and a frayed temper . . . 

Yes. Severus would spare Harry that. Another part of meeting his needs, perhaps. Harry didn't need to live with a man who was going to be in an increasingly foul mood. They'd get along much better if Severus had someone he could go to, someone who met Severus' own needs. 

Just thinking about it made his cock grow hard. 

"I'll be going into Hogsmeade this morning," he suddenly announced. Now that he'd made his mind up, everything seemed simple. Harry would keep masturbating, and Severus would visit Renard, and without sexual tension in the way, he and Harry would start getting along better than ever before. "The local apothecary has been providing Hogwarts with some decidedly inferior potions ingredients, but he won't do so again, not after I have words with him." 

Harry stopped tucking into his eggs. "Did you want me to come?" 

_I want to see you come,_ thought Severus, almost wincing at the crass reply, even if he hadn't said it. Definitely, he needed to see Renard, if he was resorting to dreadful double entendres like that one. 

"'Cause I know I shouldn't have pitched such a fit the last time you invited me," Harry went blithely on. "We're colleagues, like you said. Nothing wrong with a walk into the village, together." 

Part of Severus was pleased that Harry seemed so willing to be seen with him. Mealtimes had been like that too, lately, with Harry making a real effort to converse. 

His coming to Hogsmeade _today_ , though, was completely out of the question. In fact, Harry's timing could hardly be worse. "Oh, I have several errands," said Severus. "All of them potions-related. I think you'd be quite bored. And shouldn't you start talking with the team captains about holding tryouts? The week-end is a good time for that, I would think." 

Harry ate some more before he replied. He'd had an astonishing appetite in the last week. Good to see. 

"I was kind of waiting for the Heads of House organise things with the team captains." 

"They have in the past, but we've never had a Quidditch coach on staff before. And since they all like and respect you, I would expect them to leave the Quidditch programme in your hands." 

Harry started grinning rather strangely. "Do you think so, really?" 

"I suspect no one's sure of the protocol yet, since your position is such a new one." 

"No, I meant . . . they all like and respect me. Really?" 

Severus stared at him. "Why wouldn't they? To my knowledge, you've never had a problem getting along with Minerva or Filius or . . . ah." 

Harry burst out laughing. "That's funny, you forgetting you're a Head of House." 

"I didn't forget it." 

"Oh." Harry leaned back in his chair. "That's good, I guess." 

"It is." Severus stood up, feeling even more confident of his decision than before. This banter with Harry was probably only possible because they were both relaxed, now. Harry, on account of his frequent showers, and Severus, because he'd decided that relief for his own aching cock was just down the road. "I'll see you this afternoon, then." 

"Yeah. Good idea about the Quidditch. Thanks. And besides, Bryerson did give me a big pile of essays to mark. Again. I guess I shouldn't wait until tomorrow to get started." Harry sighed. "I can't figure out how you keep up, Severus. You assign a lot more written work than he does, and you can't foist it off on an assistant." 

"I used to mark papers each evening instead of reading out loud. I'm falling behind, so far this term." 

"Oh." Harry chewed his lip. "Think we should give up on the novels, then?" 

Severus shook his head. "Perhaps I'll make fewer comments in the margins. Harry . . . I really must be off, now." 

"All right." Harry tapped the table. "I wanted seconds, anyway." 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, September 19, 1998 ---- 10:12 a.m.**

"Severus," said Renard in a breathy voice as he came down the stairs, his every movement suggesting he'd just love to go to bed this minute. It was an act, of course. Calculated, but that was all right. Renard knew just how to achieve the effect he wanted. Severus had been half-hard while he'd been cooling his heels waiting, but now, his trousers felt unbearably tight. "So wonderful to see you here." 

The words were like a caress, implying that he'd like to see more. And his blue eyes were smouldering with desire. Renard knew a spell to make them look that way, but that didn't make the look any less effective. 

Renard lowered himself to a chair in the windowless lounge, and gestured for Severus to have a seat on the nearby divan. "So, things are going well for you?" And then, in lower tones, "You don't look happy, Severus." 

Severus' instinctive reaction to that was denial. He was happy with Harry. Or perhaps not happy, precisely. Content? No, not that either. It would be difficult to feel that way when he was living in a state of constant deprivation. It shouldn't bother him so much, he knew. He'd gone months without sex before, with only his own hands to provide satisfaction. But he'd never gone without for months while he had a handsome young man sleeping right alongside him each night. 

So no, he couldn't be happy about the situation. He supposed the truth was that he wanted to be. If only he could work everything out with Harry, they could have a good life together. Good for both of them. Severus was sure of it. 

Well, at least now he was doing something about working toward such a life. Visiting Renard, and taking care of his sexual needs in a way that wouldn't impose upon Harry . . . it really was the thoughtful thing to do. 

"Well, it's good I can be here for you," Renard went on, almost purring now. 

"I'd still rather you took up your trade in the next village over." Easy enough to visit him, there. And more discreet. 

Renard chuckled. "As if a Disillusionment charm would strain your wand. I can feel that you used one, you know. The tingle of magic still clinging to you. _Your_ magic, mmm. Perhaps a straining wand isn't such a bad thing, after all." 

Severus' felt the suggestion pulsing along the length of his cock. Enough small talk. "I'd like to book your entire morning." 

A slow smile. "I think that can be arranged." 

Severus was sure it could. "And I'd like you to climax before we're through." 

Another low chuckle as Renard moved to sit beside Severus on the divan, his arm trailing over the back of it until his fingers reached Severus' nape and began to stroke the flesh there. "Oh, yes. Of course you do. I remember what you like, Severus. You're very generous in bed. But then, you would be, with your . . ." Renard's eyelashes fluttered slightly. "Endowments. I've missed that, you know. Not every man can truly satisfy me." 

Even knowing that the last part was nothing more than a blandishment, Severus was affected. As intended. Renard knew exactly what he was about. He was good at what he did. 

Something about that was vaguely irritating, Severus suddenly realised. Arousing, yes, but not precisely what Severus wanted. Not this morning, at any rate. All this artifice, these very obviously rehearsed tones and gestures . . . he'd never taken issue with them before. In fact, he'd liked the idea that he could afford someone as skilled as Renard. But now, Severus thought he'd prefer a little less coquetry. Less flirting. 

The problem, he supposed, was that he wanted Harry. And Harry wouldn't be putting on enticing airs, or throwing out compliments he didn't really mean. He'd just be himself, inexperience included. Awkward as that sometimes was. 

"You don't need to seduce me, Renard," Severus said dryly. "In fact, I'd prefer you didn't. Be a little more natural." 

The other man's dark eyebrows went up, but of course he didn't remark on that. He was too skilled in his craft to criticise a customer's request, even if it was one he was surprised to hear. His hand stopped its stroking motion and moved to his own lap. "But of course. Whatever you want, Severus." 

Good. That reply had been delivered in a less throaty voice. 

"As for me coming," continued Renard, "I'm afraid that will cost you. A lot of men expect it, and I'm not as young as I used to be. I might not be able to take another client until late in the afternoon." 

"You're in your mid-twenties, and well-acquainted with libido potions." 

"You never used to be a hard negotiator." 

Severus wasn't being one now, either. He just didn't like being misled. Particularly not when he could see right through it. "Have I ever been less than fair with you, Renard? Twelve." 

"Fifteen." 

"Done." 

Renard stood up, striking one of his trademark come-hither poses. As if by habit, since after a moment he adjusted his posture to something more natural. Just as Severus had requested. 

Severus followed him up the stairs and into a small but tidy room dominated by a double bed piled high with pillows. The smell of incense clung to them. Renard took a lit candle from its sconce and used it to light several others. He never had liked to use magic in front of Severus. 

Severus set the agreed amount down on the nightstand. 

Renard turned as the coins clinked. "So, any particular way you'd like to begin?" 

Usually Renard wouldn't have asked. He'd just have dropped to his knees and pulled Severus close, his hands deftly working to free the cock he intended to suck. But after what Severus had said downstairs, he must know that his usual act wouldn't hit quite the right note. 

"Strip," said Severus, his voice rough. Everything he wanted from Harry, he was about to have. "But not like you're putting on a show for me. Like we live together but you're not quite used to it, yet. We're recent lovers." 

Renard was _very_ good at his craft, Severus soon discovered. The other man transformed himself as if by magic, though no spell had been cast. Suddenly he seemed younger. Less confident of himself. He smiled a little shyly, licking his lips as if he wanted a kiss but didn't know how to ask. Then he was shrugging off his shirt, averting his eyes like he wasn't positive Severus would like what he saw. But every few seconds his glance would flick back, briefly. 

As if he liked what _he_ saw so much that he couldn't help himself. 

"Beautiful," said Severus, his own lips going dry. He could use the word to Renard, whose features were more finely drawn than Harry's. Besides, Renard wouldn't misunderstand and think it was some sort of insult to be called that. 

"I . . . thank you," whispered Renard, shyly, even managing to blush, just a little. As he shimmied out of his trousers, he turned away as if looking for a way to keep hiding. He looked eager for sex but unsure about it, almost like Harry. But Harry would have worn pants beneath his trousers. Renard's lack of underclothing shattered the illusion. He wasn't Harry. Severus suddenly wanted more masculine features. Wanted a man as strong and determined as he himself was. Someone just as talented at magic, even if he had a good deal left to learn. 

Squinting, Severus tried to see Harry stripping off before him. It didn't help much. Renard was simply too tall. 

Still, Severus tried, imagining that this was Harry baring his body. Harry wanting Severus. Harry's beautiful cock coming into view . . . There, that was better. He wasn't here for Renard, not really. He was here for himself and Harry. 

"Now, me," Severus said, almost moaning, clinging to his fantasy, his robes and other clothing feeling unbearably restrictive, now. 

Another shy glance, just like Harry might give him. "And then?" 

What _did_ he want? Everything. With Harry. "Suck me. On your knees." 

Renard kept up the same show as he undressed Severus. A little bit of hesitation, mixed in with a lot of untutored desire. Wonderment, almost, as he ran his hands across Severus' skin as it came bit by bit into view. 

"Complain about the buttons," groaned Severus. 

Renard's gaze snapped up. Clearly, he didn't know what to make of that. "Er . . . too slick," he tried, his fingertips slipping across them with newfound clumsiness. 

"No, too many," corrected Severus, impatiently. 

Renard nodded and fell back into character, looking up with another shy smile. "Why all the clothes, Severus?" he asked almost coyly. "You make things so difficult. Don't you want . . . ?" 

He was trying, but it wasn't quite the same as Harry's grousing comments about the buttons. Perhaps it was better if Renard didn't talk; it shattered the illusion. 

Severus pulled the other man into his arms and kissed him, long and hard. That didn't work as well as he'd hoped, either. Renard didn't fit him quite right. Severus had never noticed it before, but now it was unmistakable. Severus wanted to bend his neck down, wanted to wrap himself around someone shorter. Renard was almost exactly his own height. 

Frustrated, Severus broke off the kiss to push down on the other man's shoulders. 

Renard sank gracefully to his knees and finished helping Severus out of his trousers, then his pants. He made a low sound of satisfaction as Severus' cock sprang into view, parallel to the floor. 

"Mmmm, I have missed this long, luscious cock of yours--" 

"Don't talk." 

Not a very necessary request, as it happened, since Renard knew better than to talk with his mouth full. The man's supple lips were wrapped around Severus' cock, his head slowly sliding back and forth along the shaft, his tongue caressing its length. 

For Severus, the feeling was indescribable. Like he'd never had this before. Or he'd forgotten how good it could be. His own hand didn't compare. 

But for all that, something was missing. It couldn't be technique; Renard's was flawless. Within moments, Severus' knees were buckling and he was staggering backwards to fall against the bed, Renard sinuously following, crawling across the floor like it was his natural habitat. Which it was, in a very real way. Renard could keep a blowjob up for an astoundingly long time, alternately teasing and satisfying, always keeping a man just an inch away from climaxing, until the final explosion, when it came, would actually make him black out for a few seconds. 

Renard's mouth latched onto him again as Severus lay back on the bed. Merlin, the man was good. Mind-blowingly good. Worth a lot more than fifteen. Severus almost came, and then almost came again. His fingers clawed the bed covers, seeking to grip something as a hedge against the feeling that he was about to be flung skyward by the sheer pleasure Renard knew how to invoke. 

Definitely, the blowjob wasn't shy or untutored. 

Perhaps that was what was missing, thought Severus with a small pang, even in the midst of his pulsing arousal. Harry's fledgling efforts wouldn't be like this. They'd be clumsier. Embarrassed at first, perhaps. But delicious. Without thinking, Severus levered himself up on an elbow, and reached a hand down to Renard's hair. Too soft, too sleek. It needed to be messier. Unruly. Severus threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of Renard's scalp, trying to make a few strands stand up a bit. 

It didn't really work, so he closed his eyes instead, and thought about Harry doing this. A slightly more mature Harry, perhaps, more at ease with Severus by then. Eager to give a blowjob. Good at it, after years of sleeping with Severus. 

Yes, that was better. He could imagine it was really Harry sucking his cock if he just skipped over a few years. Harry would be just like this, wouldn't he? His mouth warm and wet, his hands running over Severus' calves and then up underneath his thighs to cup his arse-cheeks as Severus lay on the bed. That was Harry's finger sliding into his cleft, the tug of skin-on-skin causing Severus to gasp and very nearly come. Harry would be just this enthusiastic, once he got over any awkwardness. Severus knew he would be. 

After all, when Harry had felt free from all verbal constraints, there in the ritual bath, the invocation loosening his tongue to reveal whatever crossed his mind, he'd had quite a lot to say, hadn't he? 

As Severus replayed the memory, his eyes shut, his hips bucking, Harry's words and Renard's warm mouth seemed to blend together into the kind of fantasy he could lose himself in. It was that erotic. But this was no fantasy. Harry had said all these things. Had meant them. Someday, he'd be ready to follow through. 

_"Since I can't use my hands, I was thinking I'd like to try my mouth on you. Sounds good. That's why I slipped, 'cause I was thinking about going under. I could stay down there for a while and try some things. Find out how well you'll fit in my mouth. You are huge, you know."_

And then Severus' soft voice, prompting more revelations. 

_"So, Harry. Tell me something. What do you think of my cock?"_

_"Oh, your cock. I like it. I can't help myself. It's just . . . nice, you know? It's so big. And heavy and thick. Wish I could touch it right now . . ."_

Oh, yes. That was it; that was better. Harry's voice inside his head. And those were Harry's hands on his thighs now, weren't they? Severus reached down and grabbed them, moaning. And Harry moved his mouth off of Severus' throbbing cock and started just licking it like it was the most delicious sweet. 

"More?" asked Renard. "Or would you like something else?" 

"Don't _talk_ ," growled Severus, thrown out of his fantasy. Irritated, he rolled to the side and then stood up, curtly gesturing for Renard to get onto the bed. 

Renard lay on his back and spread his legs apart. Widely. 

He was trying his best. Severus had to acknowledge that. His thighs were quivering a bit, like he was nervous as well as eager. And his cock was hard, his hips pumping slightly as if he'd like to be harder and needed some friction. The pose was inviting, and the position one Renard had remembered from all the other times he'd been with Severus. 

But it was still all wrong. 

"Turn over. Hands and knees," Severus ordered. There was a certain relief in that, in being able to just command and see his wishes obeyed. As soon as Renard had moved, Severus' fantasy snapped back into focus. Tanned skin, a long length of back. Black hair and a well-toned arse. That was all Severus could see. Good. 

But now, instead of Harry pleasuring him with lips and tongue while Severus panted with need, Severus was the one in charge. Weeks of frustration began to boil over inside him. Desires he'd repressed for far too long. He wanted to claim Harry, to make him his, to prove to him, once and for all, that Severus could make him forget what he'd been through. That Severus could make it good for him. So good he'd come screaming. Or babbling, perhaps. 

None of which meant that Severus wanted to rush things, of course. 

" _Accio_ salve," said Severus, sure there must be some in the room. When it came flying into his hand, he wasted no time in applying a thick coating of it to his cock. Then he got on the bed with Renard and began to prepare him as well. Thoroughly, his fingers stretching the man's passage while his other hand reached between Renard's legs to squeeze his cock. 

Renard started shaking slightly, which didn't make much sense until he spoke, his voice holding an edge of amusement. "You don't need to be so thorough, Severus--" 

Severus ignored him, though he really did wish that Renard would stop talking. He finished stretching and preparing the other man, then looked down at the inviting arse before him and told himself that it was Harry's. 

Positioning himself, he entered in one smooth thrust, then pulled out completely and pushed in again, harder. 

Renard shifted, spreading his legs wider. An invitation if Severus had ever felt one. Harder still, his hands gripping Renard's hips, he pushed in, angling himself now so as to stroke the man's prostate with every thrust. The heat and pressure were just what Severus had been longing for, just what he wanted. 

Except, he wanted it with Harry. 

Severus pushed that thought out of his mind as he pushed even harder into Renard, setting up a rhythm that was as fierce as it was possessive. _Mine_ , Severus thought. _You're mine . . ._

Yanking hard on the man before him, Severus dragged him upright onto his knees, staying buried deep within him as his hands caressed the man's chest and taut stomach, moving downward to grasp hold of the hard cock that seemed to leap into his hand. _Ahh,_ yes. Severus pumped it, up and down, nearly coming himself when he felt the climax rushing through it. 

Semen pulsed out the end and over his hands. Renard gasped, his own hands coming up to cover Severus'. 

Severus waited until the other man's involuntary tremors had subsided, and then urged him down onto hands and knees again, and began pounding hard, balls slapping against Renard's arse with each thrust. His own climax when it came was fierce and pulsing, a release so great that he fell forward, onto Renard's back, pressing the other man down into the bed. Severus' whole body jerked, his legs straightening, his toes arching against the covers as he strained forward, wanting to own Renard. 

Or . . . no. Wanting the one he owned, that was it. 

Severus rolled off Renard. He'd never had an encounter quite like this one. So satisfying on one level, yet . . . not entirely. It left him feeling replete, and yet also like something was still . . . missing. 

Renard lay silent next to Severus for a minute. And then, tentatively, he spoke. "Shall we go to the bathing room together? Relax until you want something more? You did book the whole morning . . ." 

Severus didn't want Renard a second time, even though he'd already paid for it. He wasn't quite sure why. He just knew that he felt restless. 

"I think I'll just go," said Severus, casting a cleaning charm before reaching for his clothes and starting to dress. 

"Did I do something . . .?" 

"No." Severus did up his buttons before speaking again. "I suppose I'm merely feeling out of sorts." 

Renard smiled, moving back against the bed pillows to strike one of his stock poses. "So I'll see you again, then?" 

"Probably," Severus responded dryly. It was unlikely that Harry was going to recover very quickly, and Severus might need to have his own needs seen to, again. Renard _was_ very skilled. As long as he kept quiet while he saw to Severus' needs, Severus could almost convince himself that he was with Harry. But for this morning . . . Severus had had enough. 

When Renard started to pout, Severus shook his head and let himself out. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, September 19, 1998 ---- 11:22 a.m.**

Harry was smiling as he stepped through the magic doorway and into Severus' rooms. It was even more fun than he'd expected, getting involved in Quidditch again. And already, the programme seemed off to a good start. Every house except Hufflepuff had already started arranging for try-outs. The team captains were relieved he'd stopped by, because they wanted to book the pitch, they'd said. 

With him. _He_ was in charge of the pitch. 

Harry saw then, what Severus had meant about nobody really knowing the protocol. Harry hadn't realised that he was really running things, not to that extent. But he was, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. He felt like a real member of the staff, now, not like he was just somebody's assistant. 

He'd sorted out Hufflepuff and helped them get things organised, and then because he'd felt like he _could_ , he'd summoned all the captains for a joint meeting, where he'd announced a schedule for training clinics. Teams had to be selected and ready for practices to begin by the 28th, he told them. He'd work with one team a night, Monday through Thursdays, for two hours per session. He expected the team captains to let him know if their members would prefer to practise after dinner, or directly after classes. 

Nobody had any questions. Even the Slytherin captain seemed cooperative, though not as deferential as the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff leaders, or as friendly as the captain from Gryffindor. Harry wondered if Severus had said something to his house. Something about cunning, about how he expected them to take full advantage of the coach Hogwarts had engaged. How they weren't going to lose the Quidditch cup just because they were too foolish to take instruction from Harry Potter. 

Or maybe the Slytherins had figured that much out on their own. 

At any rate, Harry was feeling a lot more confident about running the Quidditch programme. He wasn't even particularly bothered by the fact that he'd have to see Ginny during the Gryffindor practices. 

So, lunch first, before he dove into the essays Bryerson expected him to mark? Or maybe he could mark them while he ate, as long as he was careful not to spill anything on the students' parchments. Not for the first time, Harry was happy that he didn't have to eat in the Great Hall on weekends. 

He asked the table for a grilled cheese sandwich, remembering to specify that he didn't want a fried egg on top, and set to work. Correcting all the spelling errors the students made was unbelievably tedious. Harry sighed when he had to mark through yet another _among._ Strange how nobody seemed to know that it was supposed to be spelled with an o and u both. 

His wrist was aching a little as he reached for the tall glass of milk he'd ordered. 

That was when he found out that meals and marking just didn't mix. His hand knocked into the ink pot he'd been using. Too bad he hadn't had a self-inking quill that wrote in red. Ink spilled all over the last paper he'd worked on, obscuring both his corrections and the student's work. 

"Crap," exclaimed Harry, quickly sweeping the other parchments out of the way. Snatching up his napkin, he tried to blot up the red ink, but it didn't help much. Neither did cleaning spells. They were designed to get rid of stains, after all. And ink was supposed to be on parchment. 

What he needed was something that would dissolve the red ink but not the black. A solvent. Well, good thing he lived with a Potions Master, Harry thought, heading toward the bookshelves that lined Severus' front room. It took him about half an hour to figure out that niffler saliva ought to do the trick. 

Not that Harry had any of _that_ on hand, but Severus probably did. 

Harry let himself past the snake guardian and down the dark hallway that led to the laboratory where Severus often worked alone on his potions. So many cabinets . . . Harry hardly knew where to start. He quickly found out that if Severus had any sort of organizational system, it sure wasn't alphabetic. Though at least everything was clearly labelled. 

He was on the floor opening a low cabinet when his mouth dropped open in surprise. There inside the dark space was row after row of bright red cans. 

Coke cans. 

Harry took one out and rolled it between his palms, startled because it was so cold. Much colder than any of the bottles he'd moved aside during his search. Obviously, it had been spelled to stay cold. 

Something inside Harry sort of twisted, then. Oh, God. He remembered Severus bringing him a Coke once, when Harry had been recovering from the attack in London, and Harry had said he couldn't stand the sight of it. Which had been true, of course, but only now was he realising what it all meant. Harry had wanted Coca-Cola, and couldn't get any from the elves, and Severus had taken the time to go fetch him some. 

And not just one can, either. 

Harry quickly counted. There were twenty-three cans stored in the cabinet, all of them spelled to stay cold. Clearly, Severus had intended him to have one from time to time. But Harry had reacted so badly to that first can that Severus had never mentioned the others. 

_I will meet your needs,_ Harry remembered Severus saying. _All of them._

And what did this mean but that he _would?_ Even one as trivial as Harry being fond of a Muggle soda. Of course, he wasn't fond of it _now,_ but that wasn't the point. It was the thought that counted. 

Harry put back the can he'd taken out and closed the cabinet door, then sat slumped, staring at it. It all just suddenly seemed too much for him. Severus didn't have to give him anything. Not one thing. 

But he had. Rooms he could treat as his own, and a job that really fit his interests. That robe, so Harry could start to feel like a teacher instead of a student. All those trips abroad, day after day in the very places Harry had always wanted to see. The showers he'd encouraged Harry to take lately. He could have forbidden them, could have insisted that Harry come to him if he was ready for anything sexual. 

And now this. Coca-Cola. Severus must have gone to a Muggle store to buy it. 

Appreciating the idea of the Coke so much was stupid, in a way. Easily the least important thing, out of everything Severus had been providing, all along. But somehow it was the most significant, to Harry. All those other things had an actual purpose. Harry needed something to do during the day, and it was best for the time being if Voldemort didn't learn that Harry was a slave, so he needed the appearance of separate quarters. And so on and so forth. Even the trips abroad had served a purpose. They'd kept Harry from feeling like he was going to be buried in the dungeons for the rest of his life. Depression wasn't going to help him cross powers, was it? 

But the Coke . . . now that was totally unnecessary, and Harry knew it. Nothing as meaningless as a can of his favourite soda would lift him out of a depression. The Coke was pure indulgence, Severus buying it for no better reason than that he wanted to do something for Harry. Something to meet his wants as well as his needs. 

It was almost nothing, in one way. But in another, Harry thought it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. _Ever._

And what had Harry ever done in return? Not much. Until recently, he'd even been snubbing Severus during meals in the hall! The man deserved better, and not because Harry owed him. No . . . it was more like Harry was ashamed now, of how he'd been acting. Even sulking over points from Gryffindor. 

Harry swallowed, his mind sort of spinning as he tried to figure out what he could do for Severus. Of course it was no secret what the man wanted. It was there in his dark eyes, every morning. 

But Harry wasn't ready for anything physical. No, no . . . he couldn't even bear to shower together. He didn't want to see Severus aroused and erect. He wanted to pretend he didn't have to face that someday. But there had to be something he could do for Severus. Something Severus would like. 

_He's falling behind on marking essays,_ Harry thought. _Maybe I could offer to help him with that._

The thought filled him with dismay. He was sick enough of marking essays, what with Bryerson always giving them to Harry. But what else was there? 

Other than the obvious. 

Harry stood up, brushing off his jeans, and told himself that the essays would only be the start. He'd find other things he could do for Severus, and he'd make more of an effort, from now on out, to get along with the man. No more sulking, no more bouts of depression. So he was a slave. It wasn't ideal, but Severus was doing everything possible to make Harry's life as close to free as the spell would allow. It was time for Harry to start acting like he understood and appreciated that, instead of like he was just a bundle of resentments. 

Maybe they could go abroad together again, this time to somewhere Severus chose. Their weekends were mostly their own, and if Harry helped Severus with the essays so he was caught up with them . . . of course, when there was a match Harry would have to stay for it, but they ought to be able to find a day or two, here or there, for short trips. 

Harry nodded as he headed back down the hallway that led back to Severus' quarters. He was through with spending his time wishing that his life could be different. Nobody got everything they wanted out of life. The whole point of living, maybe, was to make the most of what you did have. 

And Harry had Severus. It was time to start trying to make things between them work a little better. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, September 19, 1998 ---- 11:56 a.m.**

It wasn't until Severus was almost back at the castle that he realised what had been missing during his encounter with Renard. Oh, it was obvious that the one he really wanted was Harry, but the real problem had been all the times he'd been reminded that Renard _wasn't_ Harry. 

And there was a simple solution to that. Severus really should have thought of it sooner. 

Polyjuice, that was all he needed. It would cost extra to convince Renard to go along, but it would be worth it. 

Severus started deciding details, then and there. No mirrors in the room, since he wouldn't want Renard to realise just whose image he was taking on for an hour at a time. He'd have to remind Renard to keep to the inexperienced act. It had been fairly convincing, if a bit uneven. 

Severus' mouth watered, and he almost wished he'd stayed behind to enjoy the rest of the time he'd paid for. But no, not much point in that. He'd only be disappointed. 

But next time . . . green eyes and dark messy hair. A body that fit against his perfectly. _Harry . . ._

Oh, yes. With Polyjuice, he could enjoy having Harry as often as he liked. He _would_ stay the whole morning next time. Or perhaps the whole evening. 

Severus stepped more lightly, making plans as he made his way back toward the castle. 

  
  
  
  



	25. Chapter 25

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, September 21, 1998 ---- 12:24 p.m.**

Harry frowned as he dragged his spoon through his bread pudding. Severus had seemed to be in an odd mood when he'd returned from Hogsmeade. Oh, he'd helped Harry find some niffler saliva so Harry could clean that great red splotch off the last essay he'd marked, but after that, he'd seemed a bit distracted. Staring at Harry from time to time, then shaking his head slightly, as if brushing aside a memory. 

Harry didn't know what to make of it. 

It made him kind of nervous, actually, so much so that he decided he wouldn't thank Severus for the Coke. It hadn't ever been given to him, after all, and admitting that he'd found it . . . no, better not. It wasn't as though he'd been intending to pry through Severus' private cupboards, really, but it might look that way. 

Harry did follow through on his plan to offer to help Severus mark essays, though he might as well not have bothered. Severus had refused, saying--tactfully for him, Harry had to admit--that Harry's N.E.W.T. results in Potions didn't inspire a great deal of confidence. 

_Just spelling and grammar and such, I meant,_ Harry had said. _I'm good enough at those._

But Severus had still refused. _From the look of the pile on the table, you still have plenty to do for Bryerson._

Which was true, Harry had to admit. Still, the whole exchange had left him feeling a little rejected. 

_What did you expect?_ he thought as he sat there in the Great Hall, staring out over the student tables. _The man's made it pretty damned obvious what he would like from you, and it doesn't involve red ink and parchment . . ._

Harry pushed that thought out of his mind and ate one more bite of bread pudding. Then he turned to Severus. "So, how are your classes going so far this term?" 

"The students are as dunderheaded as ever." 

Not so very long ago, Harry would have thought that a rather harsh assessment. Now that he was on the other side of the desk, though, he knew what Severus meant. He couldn't believe the number of times Bryerson had to explain things, first to one student and then to another, all because they hadn't been listening during lecture. Bryerson was pretty patient about it. More patient than Harry, probably. When Harry had asked him about it, Bryerson had said that he thought he'd absorbed some measure of serenity from the Native American wizards he'd studied with. 

Definitely, Severus' response to dunderheaded students didn't have much to do with serenity. 

"Teaching's harder than I thought it would be. Not that I'm teaching, exactly, but . . ." Harry sighed. "Maybe it'll be better when I start working with the Quidditch teams. Oh. Um, I had to take some points from Slytherin this morning. Hexes in the hallway. I gave the two students involved detention with Filch." 

"A Slytherin and a . . .?" 

"Two Slytherins, actually. But they won't do it again. They were both on the Slytherin team last year, so I told them I'd ban them from the pitch for a month if I had any cause." 

Severus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. 

"Um, you're their head of house, so am I supposed to write you a report or something?" 

"Their names will be enough." 

"Leonard Brimstone and Gaius Galsworthy." 

Severus' lips curled, ever so slightly. "I guarantee they'll tread more carefully in future." 

Seeing the look in the other man's eyes, Harry didn't doubt it. 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, September 23, 1998 ---- 7:54 p.m.**

"Maybe we can go somewhere this weekend," Harry suddenly said. 

Severus set his book aside. For at least the last fifteen minutes, he'd had the sense Harry wasn't listening, anyway. In fact, he'd seemed in a strange mood ever since Saturday. Staring at Severus from time to time, almost as though contemplating whether to say something. Severus wasn't quite sure what to make of it. 

From time to time he'd even wondered if Harry had somehow learned about Severus visiting Renard, but of course that couldn't be it. 

"I'm afraid that this weekend and the next are booked," said Severus, shrugging. "I told Poppy I'd have the infirmary fully stocked by early October. There are just a few potions left to supply, but they're ones that require constant attention during brewing." 

Harry sighed slightly at that. "Can't you just buy them ready-made?" A moment later, he seemed to realise what a poor suggestion that had been. "Yours are a lot better, I guess." 

Severus nodded. "The students may be complete imbeciles, but when they become ill, I do want them to recover as quickly as possible." 

Harry's lips twitched a little. "So they can return to class all the sooner?" 

"Perhaps I should take the weekend off, at that," said Severus dryly. "But I'm afraid Albus would have strong words about my supplying the infirmary with anything but the best." 

"Yeah, of course," murmured Harry, looking morose again. 

Severus had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. "Where did you want to go so much?" 

Harry started slightly as he sat there, then leaned forward a bit, toward Severus. "No place in particular. I even thought I'd let you pick. I just thought . . ." The young man cleared his throat. "It might be good to spend some time together, you know?" 

"It would be good." 

Harry started wringing his hands together, his forehead creasing when he spoke. "Um, well . . . if you really do have to brew, then maybe I could help you?" 

"I don't think that's a very good idea," said Severus slowly. 

"Yeah, probably not." Harry sighed again. "I know, you and me and Potions just isn't a good mix. But I can't mess up _so_ much, can I, if all I do is chop and mince?" 

That Harry even had to ask that showed how little he truly understood about brewing, thought Severus. "These potions are well above the N.E.W.T. level," he said in an even tone. "And I think you know how little patience I have when my directions aren't followed precisely. I much prefer an amicable relationship with you, rather than one strained by disputes just as easily avoided." 

"By my not brewing with you." Harry pushed to his feet. "All right, fine. I'll just go take a shower, then." 

Another shower alone. Severus could imagine it. _Had_ imagined it, time after time. Harry upstairs, naked, stepping into the shower. Soapy water coursing over his fit body, Harry's hands descending to tease his own cock to hardness. One hand, reaching farther down, to cup and fondle his balls . . . 

Well, Severus didn't have to settle for imagining, did he? The next time he visited Renard, he'd be sure that they showered together. He'd tell Renard to fondle himself while Severus watched. 

A pity he had so much brewing to do. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, September 28, 1998 ---- 6:51 a.m.**

The weekend hadn't gone very well, Harry thought as he shed his pyjama bottoms upstairs. Severus hadn't been joking about needing to concentrate on his brewing. Harry had hardly seen him, except late at night when the man had slid into bed with him. More than once, Harry had thought about going through to the lab and offering once more to help, but fortunately, his better judgment had prevailed. They probably _would_ end up getting into an argument. Harry would make some stupid mistake or other, as he nearly always did when he was brewing in Severus' presence. Severus would say something caustic. 

And from then, things would go from bad to worse. 

So yes, just as well that Severus had refused Harry's help. 

Even if it left Harry still wondering what he could do to show Severus a little appreciation. 

At any rate, Harry had been busy enough on his own. Bryerson had given him another stack of essays to mark. Three different classes' worth, this time. _And_ he'd said that Harry had done well enough noting obvious errors of fact that he should try to evaluate the essays all by himself, this time. _Be sure to comment on each one,_ the man had added. _At least one positive comment in addition to any misunderstandings you need to correct. And then decide on a final mark, but make a separate list of those so I can review it. I'll write the official mark on each essay once I've looked over your work._

Harry grimaced just thinking about it. Why hadn't the man just said, _You do all the work, Harry, and I'll take all the credit . . ._

That was bad enough, but trying to write something positive on each essay had just about killed Harry. What did you say to a third-year who insisted that faeries were more dangerous than vampires? _Perhaps you should meet a vampire for yourself,_ thought Harry. _Serve you right if your blood runs cold before it all runs out._ A slow smile curled his lips. Hmm, that sounded vaguely like something Severus might write on an essay. 

In any case, it wasn't the positive comment Bryerson was expecting to see, so Harry had thought about the girl's essay for a while longer. It felt pathetic, but all he could come up with was _Very nice handwriting._

Suddenly, instead of hoping that Bryerson was going to do his fair share of work marking these after Harry had finished, Harry had started hoping that the man wouldn't look at them at all. _Very nice handwriting . . ._ that wasn't what Bryerson had meant about positive comments. But then again, the man's expectations were unreasonable. There _was_ nothing good that could be said about the content of some of these essays. 

_Dunderheads_ didn't even begin to cover it. 

Well, Harry didn't have to think about that right now, he decided as he stepped into the shower and felt the spray of warm water against his chest. He could think about the nice dreams he was still having almost every night. _Mmmm,_ very nice dreams they were. Harry had expected them to taper off as soon as he started masturbating, but they showed no sign of stopping. No, they were actually getting more intense, though in some ways they were as vague as ever. When Harry woke up, all he knew was that he'd dreamed of himself with another man. No details, really, but the state of his cock showed how much he was enjoying the man in the dreams. 

Harry lowered a hand to his aching cock and began to slide it up and down the shaft, his breathing hitching slightly as the pressure in his balls suddenly spiked. Images filled his mind. Images much like the ones in his dreams. He was with the man, both of them naked. Kissing, rubbing each other, the man really nothing more than a hazy outline of someone tall with dark hair. Mostly he saw himself, enjoying the man's touch, gasping. 

Harry came, spurting into his own hand and then opening his eyes to watch the shower rinse the whitish fluid off his hands. 

He smiled a little wryly. Not once in any of his showers had he been tempted to whack off to the image of a girl. Just as well. But he thought, really, that that was what his dreams were all about. His mind was waking up to the fact that he really _was_ more interested in men. Maybe that's why the man in his dreams, and the man in his fantasies too, was such a vague figure. Not an individual at all, Harry thought. It could be any man. Well, any tall man with dark hair. But that was all right. Harry had already figured out that he liked that type best. No wonder he'd almost wished he'd been free to take Richard up on that offered kiss. 

Well, things could be worse, thought Harry. Severus might be short and fat and balding. 

Sighing, Harry reached for the shampoo and started to wash his hair. 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, September 30, 1998 ---- 8:56 p.m.**

"Where have you been?" 

The question surprised Harry. "I thought you'd be able to tell. You know, the mind bond?" 

"Oh, were you in life-threatening danger?" asked Severus snidely. "I hadn't realised!" 

Harry blinked, not at all sure why the other man should be so put out. "I was running Hufflepuff's first lesson." 

"You said they'd decided to have practise between the last class of the day and dinner!" 

"Oh." Right, Harry had told Severus that. "Um, well the captain came to me this morning and said they'd rather have their lesson after dinner, like the other teams are doing." 

"So now your Quidditch duties are going to monopolise four evenings a week?" 

"It's just until half-past eight." 

"It's nearly nine, now!" 

"Well, I needed a shower, didn't I?" 

"I'm sure you did," said Severus in an unmistakably nasty tone. 

"What's your problem?" asked Harry, exasperated. "It's not my fault the Hufflepuffs wanted to change!" 

"No, but it's your fault you let them. You aren't going to do very well working here if you pander constantly to the students!" 

"Maybe you'd do better if you'd pander to them a little bit more!" retorted Harry. "I didn't see any harm in the Hufflepuffs changing their minds." 

"Well, you might have told me," said Severus sourly as he finally dropped into a chair. "I've been waiting for you. And, I might add, you had plenty of opportunity to mention that you'd be late. Or was that not you who was sitting next to me all through dinner? And looking like you'd rather be anywhere else than by my side?" 

Harry grimaced. He probably had looked just that way, though Severus had completely misunderstood what he'd been thinking. "Sorry. I was out of sorts. Nothing to do with you." 

Severus' expression lost its harsh edge, then. "Did something happen? You didn't say much about the Slytherins' lesson. Did they give you more trouble than you were expecting?" 

"No," said Harry shortly. "And if they start to, I think I can handle it. You don't need to stick your nose in." 

Severus flushed slightly, but just for a moment. "Then what had you out of sorts?" 

Just remembering made Harry's lips twist again. He didn't really want to talk about it, but decided he'd better. "Bryerson, that's what. He took me aside after our last class today." 

"Ah." Severus paused for a long moment. "And?" 

Harry toed off his shoes and crossed his arms as he flopped onto the settee. "Let's just say, you're lucky you don't have anyone looking over your shoulder and criticising everything you do." 

"Surely he's not as bad as all that." 

"Ha." Harry felt mortified just remembering the man's comments. Not that Bryerson had been deliberately hurtful, or had seemed to enjoy their conversation any more than Harry had. But still, Harry felt like he'd been given a dressing down. 

"If you feel that Bryerson is being unreasonable, I'm sure you can have a word with Albus about it," said Severus calmly. 

Like Harry was going to run crying to the headmaster! 

"He wasn't unreasonable, I don't guess," muttered Harry. "I mean, he might have had a point. I just didn't much like hearing what he had to say, if that makes sense." 

Harry expected Severus to ask for details, but all the man said was, "Well, then, you've had a hard day. Perhaps a drink is in order. Something stronger than butterbeer, I expect." 

"That sounds good," Harry admitted, leaning his head on the back of the settee. He closed his eyes, not opening them again until something was pressed into his hand. A tiny glass filled with orange liquid. 

"Cointreau," said Severus, sitting down next to him. "It's quite sweet. I think you'll like it." 

Harry did. He sipped at the liqueur slowly, licking his lips when he finished it. He didn't exactly feel more relaxed, but he felt less tense by then. Maybe it was the fact that Severus wasn't pressing him to explain. Harry wasn't sure. All he knew was that he suddenly wanted to. "Did you know that _among_ doesn't have a u?" he blurted, still feeling humiliated over having his spelling corrected. At _his_ age. 

Severus' lips twitched, very slightly. "Ah. Yes." 

"Great. So I _am_ an idiot." Harry set his glass down and hung his head in his hands. 

"Don't be ridiculous. Your written work in general is quite good, in the mechanics at least--" 

"Gee, thanks." 

"Even you have to admit that the content of your Potions essays left a good deal to be desired." 

"Because I was so nervous that _you'd_ be reading them and picking apart every last thing!" 

"Your N.E.W.T. scores show that you can write well when you relax and have something to say," said Severus, ignoring Harry's last complaint. "But yes, your spelling does have a few quirks you'd do better to correct." 

"I know," said Harry, wishing he had another glass of that orange stuff. "The word's apparently _mischievous,_ not _mischievious,_ and--" 

Severus coughed. "A student actually needed that word in a Defence essay?" 

"The students are brainless!" 

"But you aren't," said Severus firmly. 

"Yeah, yeah." Harry did know that. He just hated to have Bryerson correct him. He wanted to do well in his job. He wanted to impress the man. 

"You can't be so very upset over a brief discussion about your spelling, surely." 

"Well, Bryerson also said that my comments on those essays were getting awfully sarcastic at times. And that I have to put my foot down about students calling me _Harry_ instead of _Mr Potter._ Which I actually agree with, but I feel so . . . well, it's going to look like I'm just full of myself, isn't it? And I hate that. _And_ he said that I favour one side when I address the class and I have to make sure to talk to the whole room. So basically, I can't do anything right." 

Severus inclined his head as though considering Harry's list of complaints. "You admit yourself that some of his points are valid. And to be quite blunt, none of them is very serious." 

"Figures you wouldn't think sarcastic comments are any sort of problem," muttered Harry. 

"I meant that the matter is easily corrected. Harry . . . very few people are natural-born teachers. The rest of us must learn as we go." 

Oh, that was just too much to take. "When are you going to start?" 

Severus gave him a warning look, his tone hardening. "Perhaps you should consider yourself fortunate to be getting some guidance." 

Harry glanced away. Maybe nobody had ever helped Severus improve. And if Harry felt thrown into the deep end, how must Severus have felt, years ago when he'd become a teacher without ever having been an assistant first? "I just thought it would come more easily," he said, sighing. 

"You're used to things coming easily, I think. Flying, for example." 

Harry felt himself colouring at that assessment, probably because it was at least partly true. He'd been nervous about starting his job, but deep down he thought he hadn't thought he'd have problems like this. "It's just . . . well, I already did teach, sort of. In D.A." He sighed. "We learned scads without doing any essays, you know. I think Bryerson assigns too many. And so do you." 

"I disagree." 

Harry could tell he wasn't going to move the man an inch. He wasn't even sure why he'd made that complaint. Maybe he was just tired enough to speak without thinking. 

"Bryerson's giving you good advice, in my view," Severus continued, clearly warming to his theme. "You do have things to learn. And chief among them is the ability to resist this impulse you seem to have, of wanting to cater to every tiny demand that the students make." 

"When have I ever--" 

"You're in charge, but you let the Quidditch teams choose when to practice," bit out Severus. "And every team chose after dinner. They don't care that you have _four_ teams to attend to. They'll run you ragged if you let them!" Severus took a deep breath. "You need to preserve some private time for yourself in the evenings. For _us_." 

Harry gulped. God, how could he have been so oblivious? There he'd been lamenting that Severus and he hadn't got a weekend away, and all the while he'd been booking his evenings solid. Evenings he should be spending with Severus, so he could start to show the man his appreciation for everything. But what was he supposed to do, now? He couldn't go back on what he'd told the students. Feeling trapped, Harry groaned. "I see what you mean. Really, I do. But the evening practices are already arranged . . ." 

"Perhaps for this term," Severus responded shortly. "But when you set the schedule for next term, I'd ask you to remember that I prefer to see you occasionally." 

"You can see me spending hours grading, if Bryerson doesn't ease up," muttered Harry. "Which reminds me that I have more to do. Crap." 

Severus narrowed his eyes. "You're only assisting with four levels. What are you doing during your free periods? Something tells me it doesn't involve marking essays." 

Harry shrugged. "That's when I make my Quidditch plans." 

"You need that much time to organise your lessons?" 

"Er . . . no, not really. I also work on my sketches, and animating them." 

"And?" 

Harry didn't want to admit it, but with Severus staring at him like that, like he was just wasting all his free time . . . "I take showers, all right? You said it was all right. You said it was the best thing I could be doing!" 

"Perhaps I'd like to be included once in a while," said Severus, nostrils flaring. 

"I . . . look, I know you would, but I can't. It's too soon--" 

Severus just stared at him. 

"I'm trying, all right?" 

When the other man didn't say anything at all, Harry finally got up and went upstairs to work on the essays that were waiting. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, October 6, 1998 ---- 8:48 p.m.**

Severus had been right, Harry thought glumly as he walked up the stairs to the upstairs rooms and used the magic doorway to secretly slip down to the dungeons. Evening practices four days a week were palling already. He was starting to wish that he'd insisted that some of the teams, at least, have practice before dinner. This way, he felt like he was working all the time. 

Of course, he did have weekends off, but that hadn't done him much good. Severus again disappeared into his lab to brew and brew and brew, though he'd seemed to finish everything by late Saturday night. So Harry had suggested they pop over to Paris, or anywhere else, really, for a few hours on Sunday. 

But Severus had refused to go. He hadn't given any reason, either. Not even when Harry had asked. 

_He's still angry with me over those showers,_ Harry had decided. No matter that the showers had been Severus' idea to begin with. Clearly, the man was getting impatient for Harry to get better. 

But since Harry still couldn't even imagine wanting to do anything with another person . . . he couldn't help it! What did Severus expect? 

_You know what he expects . . ._

Harry pushed that thought away as he dropped onto the settee. 

Severus kept reading and didn't even glance up. 

Harry thought he'd better try to get them back to some kind of friendly status. "W. Somerset Maugham? How about reading some out loud to me? I've missed that." 

Severus flicked his fingers to turn a page. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you set your schedule." 

"I didn't set it, the students picked--" 

"And you know just what I think of that, don't you?" 

Harry sighed. "I'll switch, all right?" He hated the thought of seeming unreliable, but he hated this even more. "I'll put all the practices before dinner." 

"Oh, you mustn't let me inconvenience you," said Severus, his voice so cool that Harry almost winced. "Far be it from me to--" 

"You're a fine one to complain about _me_ having the sulks," exclaimed Harry. 

Severus finally looked up, his eyes blazing. "Don't you have essays to mark?" 

"I got them done during my free period today, like you suggested!" 

"What, no _shower?_ " 

"Oh, for God's sake. I'll stop showering if it's such a problem for you. In fact, if you're going to turn into a total bastard like this, I swear I'll tell the elves to rip the damned spigot out! And then I'll come sit in your potions classes during my free periods so you won't think I'm using yours!" 

"Not worried what the students will say if you turn up in my classroom like that?" jibed Severus. 

"They'll just think you gave me a detention!" shouted Harry. 

For some reason, that answer made Severus' lips curl slightly. And not sarcastically. He looked like he was trying hard not to smile. "I think that might tend to undermine your authority." 

That seemed to break the tension. "Yeah, I guess it would. And I don't need that. Look, just tell me, all right? Do you want me to stop . . . uh, you know, masturbating? Because if it's going to make everything between us a lot worse, I probably should." 

Severus stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "It is the best thing for you to be doing, I think." 

"Then stop being so . . . so . . ." Harry threw his hands up in the air. He didn't really want to call Severus a bastard, again. "Look, I know that sex is the one thing you wanted from this whole deal, and you aren't getting any, but I really am trying, and--" 

"And to think I told myself I wouldn't pressure you," said Severus. 

"Well, you haven't been, and I've been trying to show you how much I appreciate it." Harry crossed his arms. "That's why I thought we could go away for a weekend, to someplace you'd really like to visit. You're done stocking the infirmary, aren't you? So maybe this weekend, then?" Harry paused as something struck him. "Oh, God. You're going to kill me. I scheduled some Quidditch clinics on Saturday afternoons, all the teams together, set it up when I was first organising things--" 

"Every Saturday?" 

"No, just this one and the next." Harry chewed his lip. "Maybe the weekend after that we can do something together, then?" 

"Yes, let's," said Severus, sounding like he was satisfied, but about something else besides the prospect of a trip abroad. "So you'll be occupied the next two Saturdays, will you?" 

"Yeah. Sorry." 

Severus looked like he was calculating something. "What about the Hogsmeade trip on the seventeenth? I thought Albus would enlist you to chaperone the students." 

"Well, he tried, but I told him that I thought I'd better use the morning to set up things on the pitch, and such." Harry winced a little. "I didn't know there was a Hogsmeade trip when I set up the Quidditch clinics. The students started complaining about the conflict, the minute they found out, but you said not to spoil them rotten, so I've been telling them that they'd better just come back from Hogsmeade a bit early. But I'd rather have avoided all this . . . isn't there a master calendar somewhere, of school events?" 

"In Albus' head," said Severus dryly. "But if you spend much time in the teachers' lounge you'll hear what you need to." 

_Teachers' lounge._ Oh, wonderful. "I didn't know there was one," said Harry baldly. "Am I allowed in? I'm not really--" 

"I don't go there much, myself," interrupted Severus, "but I can certainly show you the way. And yes, of course you'd be welcome there. Bryerson should have mentioned as much." 

"Or Dumbledore." 

"He probably thought that I would tell you about it." 

"Well, you did." Harry almost added _better late than never,_ but decided it wouldn't help. "So, do you not feel like reading to me?" His tone went serious. "I really have been trying to spend more time with you, Severus, doing things we enjoy. I liked how we were getting along before. I'm sorry about booking my weekends like that--" 

Severus, however, looked reasonably cheerful for some reason. "Oh, don't let that trouble you. I have things of my own to do, in any case." 

"Oh. You mean Hogsmeade? Albus enlisted you to chaperone when I couldn't? Er, sorry about that. I can imagine it's not your favourite thing." 

Severus' teeth glinted. "I've personal business to attend to, I meant. Nothing to do with the students." 

_More potions ingredients._ "All right. So, how about the book?" 

"Oh, very well. I'll read to you, if you insist." Severus' tone made it sound like a burden, but Harry saw through that. The man was actually feeling rather pleased. 

Harry hid his grin. "I don't suppose I could convince you to start over at the first chapter?" 

"No, I don't suppose you could." 

Then, as if to prove some kind of point, Severus began reading out loud, starting in the middle of a sentence. 

Harry laughed, but then he scooted over to sit right alongside Severus, so he could read over his shoulder as he listened. 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, October 7, 1998 ---- 6:45 a.m.**

Harry felt a bit guilty the next morning when he stepped under the spray of the shower. Leaving Severus' bed in the early hours . . . it wasn't exactly sneaking off, but it had felt that way. Maybe it was because of the sense he had, that the other man was wide awake and pretending not to be. Or maybe it was because now Harry knew, in more detail than before, just how hard it was for Severus to watch Harry go off alone to masturbate. 

Harry sighed as he began to soap himself all over. What was he supposed to do about it? He still froze up at the idea of showering _with_ Severus, or doing anything at all with him. Anything remotely sexual. Kissing would probably be all right, he supposed, but then again, Severus hadn't been acting like he much wanted to kiss Harry. 

But that was easy to understand. Kissing usually led to other things. Things Harry couldn't bear to provide. Severus probably didn't want to become aroused when there was actually nothing on offer. 

Well, there was no help for it, Harry thought. He couldn't control how he felt about sex after everything he'd been through. Severus seemed to understand that, at least when he was thinking with his mind instead of his cock. 

Pushing thoughts of his problems away, Harry moved his hand lower, dragging his fingers through the hair below his belly, tantalising himself for a moment before he began to wank in earnest. As always, vague images filled his mind as the pleasure in his cock built. _Yes, yes, like that_ , Harry thought, seeing himself held tight against another man's chest, the two of them slowly gyrating their hips. He felt himself shiver as a sweep of dark hair brushed his shoulders. _Mmmm._

Harry's hand sped up as he imagined that it was the other man's hand, instead. Firm fingers, squeezing his cock. Stroking it, up and down. Another hand on his chest, rubbing in slow circles. 

It was like everything he'd been dreaming about, only in greater detail than he'd visualised before. _Oh, yes._ More than seeing, now, he could feel the difference in their heights. Harry's hip was pressed high against the other man's thigh, and when their embrace became tighter, that hand falling away, he felt a hardness poking into his lower belly. 

He saw himself straining, reaching up on tip-toe, wanting more contact. Wanting them cock to cock, grinding. 

Groaning, Harry reached his arms up and looped them around the other man's neck, pulling his face down for a kiss. He tangled his fingers in the ponytail of dark hair falling over his hands, then impatient to explore it further, fumbled to untie the strip of leather holding the man's hair together. 

Ah, that was better. A fall of smooth hair unfurled over his fingers. Harry broke off the kiss to admire it, his hips pumping, his mouth dry with wanting, his whole body feeling like a pillar of need. 

_Mmmm,_ Harry thought again, his hand on his cock moving faster. Fantasies were better than dreams. He couldn't recall ever dreaming this scene in colour, but he was seeing everything in clear detail, now. The man's long fingers and strong chest. His dark brown hair, falling through Harry's fingers . . . 

_Brown hair . . ._

At the same moment that Harry realised just what he'd been doing in the shower, morning after morning, he felt a familiar rush of pleasure rushing through his cock to spurt out the end. 

Harry jerked his hands away, gasping, half-wanting to stop his orgasm. But of course that was impossible. He was too far gone. 

When it was over, he sank to the floor of the shower, water forcing his hair into streaks across his face, and bit his lip. Oh, God. How could he have dreamed that? How could he have wanked off to it, time and again? Morning, afternoon, and night, some days, and all along, it had been _Bryerson_ with him in those fantasies. 

Bryerson, out of focus until now, but yes, it had definitely been him. Harry saw that, now. There'd always been that ponytail . . . but he'd never given it any thought before. He wasn't even sure he'd noticed it. Looking back now, though, he could remember it, every time. 

Harry groaned again, the sound of it this time not the least bit erotic. 

Then he tensed, expecting some horrible punishment to strike him like a lightning bolt. No warning. No explanation. Just pain. Suffering. That crushing feeling inside his lungs as he struggled to breathe and couldn't . . . 

But nothing happened, unless he counted the way he could feel a cold sweat breaking out all over him. It was washed away at once by the warm water, but Harry hardly felt reassured. 

This was bad, he knew. Very bad. In fact, he could more-or-less deduce why he hadn't been punished yet: he hadn't known what he'd been doing. It was just the same as with that damned money. Harry's convulsions hadn't started when the twins had established that account for him, or owled the notice off. No . . . only when Harry had found out about it, and done the wrong thing . . . that was what had got him into such a terrible state. 

He wasn't going to get punished for those past showers, he suddenly knew. But if he wanked to images of Bryerson again . . . if he thought of the man like that at _all_ . . . 

Harry abruptly shot to his feet, getting out of the shower as fast as he could. He almost slipped on the slick tiles covering the floor outside. No more showers, he thought, a little frantically. Absolutely none. It wasn't worth the risk. 

But what about his damned dreams? Bryerson was in _them_ , too. 

Well, there was always Dreamless Sleep potion, Harry knew. He'd have to get some. 

But he _wasn't_ going to think about Bryerson again. Not at night, not in the shower . . . God, how could he have been so _stupid?_ The fucking spell wasn't going to put up with crap like that, and he knew it. Harry felt like a man who'd suddenly had a blindfold ripped away. At first the light was so bright, it was all you could see. But as your vision adjusted, more things came clear. 

And now, Harry could see that he'd been attracted to Bryerson all along. Just look at how upset he'd been over a few words of advice! That hadn't been about wanting to do well in his job. No, deep down he'd been bothered that Bryerson might not like him! 

Which was stupid in the extreme, even if there wasn't any such thing as _Cambiare Podentes._ Bryerson was starring in his sexual fantasies, and Harry didn't even know if the man was attracted to his own sex! 

Harry felt like an idiot. A dunderhead. Or worse. 

And now he had to get dressed. He had to go and stand in the same room as Bryerson, hour after hour. Just thinking about it made him want to groan again. Or better yet, say he was sick and couldn't work today. 

He couldn't do that to Severus, though. He'd expect Harry to be very sick indeed, if he was missing work. He'd worry. Or more likely, he'd make Harry drink a bunch of foul potions that weren't really needed. 

_Fuck_ , thought Harry, his frustration mounting. He couldn't claim to be sick, anyway! The instant Harry lied, Severus would know. 

No use putting it off, then. Harry went through the rest of his morning routine so he could drag himself off to breakfast. 

It was a small comfort that at least there, he wouldn't have to be near Bryerson. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 10, 1998 ---- 8:15 a.m.**

Harry woke up hard, but at least he hadn't dreamed. 

When he opened his eyes, Severus was sitting up next to him, bare-chested, looking at him. "You're sleeping in rather late, these days." 

"Well, it's the weekend, after all . . ." 

"All the better for a long shower, I'd think." 

"Don't think I feel like one." 

At that, Severus turned and slowly looked him over. "That's not the impression I get from here." 

Harry sat up and tried to adjust the covers to conceal his erection. Hopeless effort, really. "I . . . uh, well, that doesn't always mean anything, you know." 

"I think you'd better stop taking Dreamless Sleep," said Severus sternly. "This reluctance is clearly a side effect, and it can't be healthy." 

"I need the potion--" 

"Why? You were very vague on that point." 

Of course he'd been vague, Harry thought, frowning. Any outright lie would trigger the mind bond, so he'd just said that his dreams had been bothering him. _Not nightmares, no_ , he'd answered when Severus had asked. 

"I just thought it was a good idea," Harry said now. 

"You were evidently mistaken. This is the third day in a row you haven't leapt out of bed to get to your shower." Severus' frown reached his eyes. His voice, when he continued, was very quiet. "Harry . . . I know my mood's been foul for a while now, but I truly didn't mean for you to stop pleasuring yourself." 

"I know. I just . . ." Harry lifted his shoulders. He could think of a lot of things to say, but he couldn't say any of them. Not unless he wanted one of those searing headaches the spell was so fond of launching at him. 

"Go and shower," said Severus. 

"I'll try later. Maybe tonight." 

The other man's voice went hard. "I don't often tell you what to do, but on this occasion, I'm going to insist, Harry. Go and shower. Now. And for Merlin's sake, run a comb through your hair first. I think you must have been thrashing in your sleep even despite the potion. Perhaps because of it." 

Strange, Harry couldn't remember feeling disturbed during the night. With his cock aching the way it was, he also couldn't manage too much indignation over Severus' high-handedness. The man had the right to boss Harry around all he liked, and he basically never did, and this time he clearly had Harry's welfare in mind, so . . . 

Besides, by then, Harry had concluded that the _no-masturbate_ plan wasn't going to work in the long term. He'd just have to whack off without thinking about Bryerson. In fact, if he was going to think about anyone at all, it had better be Severus. 

Harry nodded and got up to head upstairs. 

"Don't forget to straighten out your hair," called Severus after him. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 10, 1998 ---- 3:29 p.m.**

Severus was gnashing his teeth as he headed back from Hogsmeade. All that effort to procure a hair--damned house elves kept everything so clean that it had been harder than he'd thought--and Renard hadn't even been at the brothel! His weekend off, of all things. 

"Someone else, perhaps," said the short, balding man who was managing the place. "We have several very talented--" 

"No," snapped Severus, his robes flaring as he whirled and strode out the door. Of course with Polyjuice, anyone could look like Harry, but he wanted Renard, who could act like him as well. The inexperienced act. The slight sheen of shyness. The breathless excitement. 

Besides, Severus knew from long experience that Renard was circumspect in the extreme. He'd proven his discretion in the past. He wouldn't gossip about the Potions Master of Hogwarts utilising potions in bed. 

So, next weekend it was, then. Renard would be back, and Harry would be conveniently occupied running the second of his Saturday clinics. 

Severus even already had the hair he would need. 

One more week, and he'd finally have Harry, or as good as, in his bed. Sucking him. Being sucked. Gasping. Inviting Severus into his shower . . . 

For all that, Severus could wait another week. 

  
  
  
  



	26. Chapter 26

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 10, 1998 ---- 7:02 p.m.**

_There,_ thought Harry. 

He made a face as he shoved the stack of finished essays to one side. Marking them had been even more of a pain than usual, probably because he was trying so hard not to think about Bryerson. Which made class with the man somewhat difficult, he had to admit. 

His muscles ached just a little bit when he stood up from the table and made his way through the secret doorway and down into the dungeons. And no wonder. That Quidditch clinic had been gruelling, so much so that Harry wished he'd scheduled the next one for a month away, instead of just a week from now. Four teams at the same time wasn't such a good idea, not in practice. It had meant that Harry was flying back and forth like a madman, trying to help dozens of students at once. 

Students who hadn't listened to his instructions, in the first place. 

Or maybe they had, and the problem was that Harry had jumped ahead too fast, trying to teach some pretty advanced moves to the teams. A lot of the players were basically beginners, and flying didn't come as easily to them as it had to Harry. That much was obvious. 

So Harry had felt a bit like Bryerson, rushing around trying to correct all the errors the students were making-- 

_No, no. Not going to think about Bryerson._

"Anything in particular you'd like for dinner?" asked Harry as a way of distracting himself. It didn't work. His next thought was relief that at least on weekends, he didn't have to eat at the head table if he didn't want to. Which meant he didn't have to see-- 

"Chicken, perhaps," said Severus, glancing up from where he, too, appeared to be marking essays. From the number of parchments on the table, he seemed to have been at it for quite some time. That made Harry feel a little less alone. Hmm, maybe he should bring his work down here, next time, so they could sit together. "Cordon bleu." 

"Sounds good," said Harry. He waited until Severus had cleared all those essays off the table, then set about ordering their meal. It was nice being able to ask for what he wanted, he thought. And nice to be able to do something for Severus, finally, though of course ordering a meal wasn't very much in the scheme of things. 

Still, it was better than nothing. Much better, Harry thought a few moments later when their starters appeared. 

"This looks appetising," said Severus, neatly spearing a wedge of marinated tomato with his fork. "You made a good choice of wine." 

Harry felt a bit ridiculous that he very nearly beamed. But it was good to get something right for once, especially after that frustrating Quidditch clinic and even worse, his shower that morning. It hadn't gone well. Harry had felt like he was battling, the whole time, to keep his thoughts where they belonged: on Severus. The minute he relaxed into his fantasies, the man he was thinking about kept trying to shift form. Black hair, merging into brown. A ponytail appearing . . . 

Groaning with frustration, Harry would force the fantasy back to Severus once more. His hair, his features. He'd finally managed to come while thinking about Severus, but his orgasm had been a half-hearted thing. Definitely, worry and masturbation didn't mix well. Maybe things would improve with practice, Harry thought. He'd think about Severus every morning, and sooner or later those tantalising images of a naked Bryerson would just go away, right? 

Harry hoped so, anyway. He didn't like the feeling that he was courting disaster, that he was coming so close to breaking the terms of the contract he'd signed. Of course, it didn't say a word about fantasies, but he _had_ promised "absolute sexual fidelity." And the contract _had_ been shockingly vicious with him before, when it didn't seem to _him_ that he'd broken any of its terms so . . . better safe than sorry, Harry figured. 

All of which meant that he had to disregard Severus' instructions about Dreamless Sleep. There was no way that Harry was risking another unbearably hot Bryerson-dream. It was practically suicide. Avoiding such dreams meant disobeying Severus, of course, but Harry thought that couldn't be helped. Besides, disobeying Severus didn't seem to be _too_ serious, did it? The spell wouldn't punish him unless he actually broke the contract; he was clear on that now. It was up to Severus to enforce obedience in "lesser matters," as he'd put it, and the man had all but promised that he wouldn't punish Harry, so . . . About the worst thing that would happen was that defiance would keep them from crossing powers. But they couldn't cross powers, anyway, not as long as Harry couldn't bear to be touched! 

Besides, Severus never had said to stop taking Dreamless Sleep. He'd just said that he thought Harry had better stop taking it. So, it wasn't really defiance at all, was it? 

In any case, Harry was relieved that he still had some potion left over from the vial Severus had given him when he'd asked, since he certainly couldn't ask for more. 

_Doesn't the fact that he didn't ask for it back mean that he trusts you?_ a voice inside of him chided. _And shouldn't you prove yourself worthy of that trust?_

Harry told the voice to shut up. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 10, 1998 ---- 7:53 p.m.**

Severus had been feeling frustrated for most of the day. He kept telling himself that it was just one more week until he'd get to see Renard again. Knowing that did help, but not enough. His fantasies were still running rampant. Harry on his knees--or Renard, rather, but under the influence of Polyjuice--admiring Severus' cock as it jutted out. Harry, licking his lips. Wanting Severus. Wanting to suck him, long and slow and sweet . . . 

Now, looking across the table at Harry dipping raspberries in castor sugar, one after another, and then popping them into his mouth and licking his fingers . . . it was almost more than Severus could bear. 

What made it worse, thought Severus, was that Harry was so obviously _ready_ for more than solitary showers. Severus just had to get Harry to see that. Get him to take the next step. 

But how? Severus didn't want to go back to the way he'd acted before Harry's birthday, always pushing, always demanding more. No . . . any demands had to come from Harry himself. There was just no other way. 

He almost sighed. There wasn't anything he could do, was there? Even if _he_ sat here licking his fingers in a provocative way, Harry probably wouldn't notice. He just wasn't sophisticated enough to pick up on subtle signals . . . or even bloody obvious ones. 

"Shall I read to you for a while?" Severus asked, pushing back his chair. At least that was something they could do together, something they both enjoyed. 

Or perhaps not, since Harry made a face. "Can we switch books, though? Maugham just isn't doing it for me. Maybe something lighter?" 

"I'd prefer to finish one book before moving on to the next." 

"It takes so long to get through a story, that way," said Harry in a slightly peevish voice. 

Severus' nostrils flared. "I haven't been reading stories to you, but _novels_." 

"Really? I must not have been paying attention in all those literature classes Hogwarts offers." That time, Harry's voice was dry. "Listen, maybe the two of us should pop by a book shop sometime. There are actually whole books made up of shorter stories, you know." 

An idea suddenly flashed into Severus' mind. A wicked idea, but a good one, for all that. "Oh, I think I can find a book of short stories in my collection, if you wish." Hiding a smirk, he led the way out to the parlour, where he bent down to fetch a slim volume off the lowest shelf. " _1001 Wizard Nights,_ perhaps?" He turned the book around so Harry could see the cover, which was really nothing but the title written in fancy gold script against a crimson background. 

Harry laughed. "Imagine that, you with a Gryffindor-coloured book. But sure, that sounds fine. Sort of Arabian, then?" 

"Not precisely," said Severus as he flicked his wand to light a fire. They settled onto the settee together, Harry sitting a short distance away. Leaning back, Severus crossed his legs and angled the book so Harry wouldn't be able to see the occasional illustrations inside. He wanted Harry to listen for as long as possible, not rush off in shock. Though perhaps that wouldn't happen in any case, Severus thought, recalling the books Harry had once mentioned looking through. 

Flipping through the pages, Severus chose one of his favourite stories and began reading aloud. Harry closed his eyes as he listened, but it wasn't long before they snapped open again. "Hey, those two blokes sound like they're . . . er, sort of interested in each other, I think!" 

"Mmm," said Severus, merely nodding as he continued to read. 

Harry settled back against the back of the couch again, but this time he kept his eyes on Severus as the story progressed. It wasn't long before the main characters--an alchemist and his apprentice, as it turned out--were tumbling together into bed. 

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh . . . the author isn't really going to show . . . er, I mean, describe everything, is he?" 

"She," corrected Severus, smiling slightly. "And yes, she is." 

He almost expected another objection, but Harry chose to fall silent. Good enough for Severus, whose voice dropped to a smooth tone when he reached the more explicit passages. Beside him, Harry began squirming. Not much . . . but it was noticeable. 

Severus was aroused as well. _Very_ aroused, but he managed to finish the story. By that time, Harry was flushed, his breathing heavy. Severus turned to him and tried to make his voice as casual as possible. "Shall I read another, then?" 

"No, I think one was enough," Harry said, the words sounding thick. "Um, I didn't know people wrote things like that." 

"I thought you said you'd looked at some books not too long ago." 

"Yeah, but they were--" Harry cleared his throat. "Non-fiction, you know? Almost like manuals, some of them." 

"Ah." Severus laid the book aside. "Well, those have their uses, but I for one do appreciate a well-told story." 

Harry shot him a look before admitting, "Uh, yeah, me too, I think." 

Severus glanced down at the obvious bulge in Harry's jeans. He wanted to reach over and stroke it, then ease the denim down over Harry's hips and . . . 

But no, that would be too much like a demand, Severus thought, frowning. But if Harry _asked . . ._ well, that would be entirely different, wouldn't it? It wouldn't be Severus demanding things for himself. Or even expecting anything in return, really. Getting Harry to ask would just be a way of helping him along, helping him see that he was ready for more than solitary showers. 

He needed to prompt Harry, though, because the young man clearly wasn't going to dip his toe in the water on his own. Hmm. Severus knew he had to be careful. Too much suggestion and Harry might feel that Severus was shoving him in the deep end. So, something vague. Something that left Harry still feeling like he was in control, like Severus wasn't putting ideas into his head . . . 

"Harry," said Severus softly, moving over on the settee until they were almost hip to hip. "Is there anything I can do for you?" 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 10, 1998 ---- 8:34 p.m.**

Harry swallowed. That really had been quite some story. He'd imagined it happening as Severus had read it . . . sort of like a movie playing in his head. He'd seen the men in bed together, lying side by side but reversed head to toe, so that each one could suck the other. They'd come together, the two of them swallowing and shuddering at the same time, then collapsing into a weak heap afterwards. The younger man had moved up on the bed after a moment so they could kiss, long and slow. 

Harry was used to an aching cock these days, but his was actually twitching, now. _Quite some story_ didn't really even cover it. He knew he'd be thinking about it in the shower, next time-- 

"Anything at all," Severus said, and Harry realised that the other man had been speaking. 

He found himself staring at Severus' mouth, at his slightly chiselled lips as they moved. He'd been watching Severus' lips during the story, too, he realised. He'd been licking his own, from time to time, and thinking that it might be good to try kissing again. Or, no. Not quite that. This wasn't like before, when he always had a reason to be kissing Severus. Preparing for the invocation . . . or later, trying to get ready for his birthday and the attack that never came. 

He'd wanted to kiss Severus just now, he realised, for no other reason than that it sounded good. It still sounded good. Really good. 

"Um . . ." He didn't know why he had trouble saying it. They'd kissed plenty of times before, after all. But now, it just seemed easier to shift over on the settee and turn towards the other man. One hand behind Severus' neck, Harry pulled his head down for a kiss. 

_Oh . . ._ it seemed like a long time since they'd really kissed. Harry wasn't sure how he could have forgotten how good it was, but he had. Severus tasted faintly of wine and raspberries, in that order. Delicious. 

Harry opened his mouth more and deepened the kiss, pulling Severus more closely against him. _Mmmmm._ He started feeling heat washing through him, the feeling gathering force in the pit of his belly as his cock got even harder. He needed more than a kiss, he thought. He needed to explore Severus, like he'd done that time they'd played that questions game. But again, it was different. Then, he'd made himself do it. 

Now, he didn't think he could help himself. 

Harry broke off the kiss, his breathing erratic as he moved his fingers to the top button on Severus' shirt. Fumbling, he slipped it free finally, and then moved down to the next, and the next, until he could pull the fabric apart and see the smooth contours of Severus' chest. So white, that skin. Harry wanted to see it flushed, wanted to hear Severus moaning with the knowledge of what Harry could do to him . . . 

Like a bee drawn to honey, Harry dipped his head and began kissing Severus' neck, just at the point where it joined his shoulder. The other man's breathing hitched when Harry found a particularly sensitive spot. Smiling, Harry laved it more, poking his tongue into it until Severus was the one who was squirming. 

The kiss wasn't enough; Harry needed more. His hands dived inside Severus' shirt, going underneath the fabric to caress the man's lean, muscled chest and taut stomach. 

Severus tugged on Harry's shoulders, pulling him up onto lap as they kept kissing. Harry gasped, grinding his hips upward, seeking some kind of contact. But there wasn't any. Frustrated, he groaned low in his throat. 

Soon, it was too much to bear. Harry could only sit and kiss for so long, as it turned out. The need inside him was too strong to put off any longer. His cock was too hard and his jeans far too tight. He had to get them off. Now. 

But not in front of Severus, who might see him and think . . . yeah, he wasn't ready for that. But the kissing was still good. He knew who he'd be thinking about in the shower, this time, and it wasn't Bryerson. 

Breaking off the kiss, Harry backed away slightly. "Um . . . I think I'd better, uh, you know." Gesturing almost randomly, he tried to indicate that he was going to go to the upstairs rooms. He was pretty sure that the motion was incoherent, but Severus must have understood it. 

The man's hands dropped to his sides, his breathing ragged, his voice hoarse. "Yes, go," he only said. 

Hearing that tone, Harry felt a bit bad to be leaving. It wasn't fair to Severus, he knew. And _he_ probably wouldn't appreciate being . . . well, teased, practically, he guessed. But he hadn't meant to do it. He hadn't known things would be so intense. If he had, he wouldn't have started this, knowing as he did that he couldn't finish it. 

Desperate as he was, though, he couldn't just leave without a word. "I . . . uh, that was good." 

"Was it." That time, Severus' voice was dry. 

Harry knew he hadn't really said what he'd meant. Well, he had, but not completely. Saying it more directly was kind of embarrassing, though. It shouldn't be, he knew, but Severus had been right when he'd said that living with the Dursleys had skewed Harry's perceptions. Still, after all Severus had done for him, he deserved to know, Harry supposed. 

He cleared his throat. "No, I was trying to say, er . . . that was good because that time I didn't even think about you being a man, I meant. I just . . ." Harry glanced away. "It's just, you and me, you know. It's good." 

The other man gave a jerky nod, his features strained. Oh. Not the best time to talk. Not for Severus, either. Harry suddenly felt even worse to be leaving like this. "You're going to shower too, then?" 

Severus bared his teeth then, and gestured curtly with his hand. 

Understanding the message, Harry left him to it. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 10, 1998 ---- 9:26 p.m.**

A shower wasn't remotely an option, thought Severus as he shoved a hand inside his trousers and took hold of his cock. Hard and long, his balls taut and heavy, he knew he couldn't wait the few seconds it would take to make it to the bathroom. 

He stroked himself with steady pressure, his other hand frantically popping buttons open so he could move more freely. Ah, yes, that was it. His cock and balls both free to the warm air drifting from the hearth, Severus shifted his hips on the settee, and began to pump himself in earnest. 

_Ah, yes._ Harry had made him unbearably hard, so much so that Severus knew he wasn't going to last long. The slightly shy reaction to the story, and then the kissing, and the way Harry had touched Severus' chest and kissed his neck . . . untutored but eager. 

Eager for Severus. Wanting him. It had been all Severus could do to keep from throwing Harry down onto the rug in front of the fire, and grinding his hips against Harry's, then and there. Until Harry was doing more than groaning. Until he was gasping, screaming, coming-- 

Severus came then. Hard, steady pulses of semen shot out of his cock and streamed downwards over it as his hands kept moving, pumping, milking every last drop of pleasure from his orgasm. 

He heard himself moan, the sound of it punctuated by the crackling of the fire. But it wasn't a mindless groan -- no, it was Harry's name he'd said as he came. 

For a long moment afterwards, Severus sat motionless. Spent and exhausted, he felt like he'd never move again. But then he glanced down at the state he was in, his cock growing limp now, poking out of the trousers he'd never even removed. Semen lay spattered against the dark fabric of his clothing. 

Merlin, what was he doing, sitting here like this? Harry could walk in any second. Could have walked in, actually, while Severus was masturbating. That was how desperate Severus had been. 

A wry smile curled Severus' mouth. He hadn't even been able to make it to the shower . . . oh, yes. He really did need to have a good session with Renard. 

The weekend, Severus thought, couldn't come soon enough. 

  
  
  
  



	27. Chapter 27

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, October 15, 1998 ---- 5:02 p.m.**

"Potter." 

The last student had filed out and Harry was just about to leave. Friday at last, which meant that after four straight days of after-dinner Quidditch lessons, he finally had an evening off. Of course, tomorrow afternoon he had to run another clinic for all four teams at once, but he'd be sure not to schedule another one of _those_ anytime soon. 

"Yes, Professor?" 

Bryerson waved toward the stairs that led to his classroom office. "I'd like a word, if you have a few moments." 

The last time Bryerson had wanted a word, he'd done nothing but criticise Harry. Still, things could be worse, Harry supposed. Dreamless Sleep every night meant that he hadn't had any more erotic dreams about the man, and ever since those long, heated kisses on Saturday night, his shower fantasies had featured nobody but Severus. His sleek black hair. His deep voice. His pale, lean body. Even his thick, long cock. 

Or maybe, especially his cock. Harry's fantasies were growing randier all the time. No longer did he think only about vague rubbing, one man sliding against another while they kissed. Oh, there was plenty of that, sure, but there were also a lot of the things that happened in that book of Severus'. After hearing the story about the alchemist and his apprentice, Harry had wanted to hear more, but he'd thought that asking Severus to read it out loud again was almost like teasing the man. Which would be wrong, he knew. So he'd been borrowing the book during his off-periods, and reading it himself. 

And now, the things he fantasised about in the shower had a lot to do with those stories. One man kneeling down to suck another, running his hands up and down the back of the other man's thighs. Two men slowly stroking each other as they lay side by side in bed, kissing each other's necks. And frottage. Lots of frottage. Harry got hot and sweaty just reading the detailed descriptions. But that was all right -- a nice long shower afterwards always set him to rights. 

There were also some stories about other things . . . a man on his hands and knees, gasping as his arse was stretched by slick fingers . . . Harry always skipped those, as soon as it was clear which way the wind was blowing. He didn't want to think about that, and besides, those stories weren't arousing for him. Not at all. But the book had plenty of stories that were, so Harry just kept reading those ones over and over. 

And over. 

Harry grinned a little, thinking about the book. If he wasn't careful, he'd have to start looking up spells to help make it like new again, so it wouldn't keep falling open to the stories Harry liked best, the ones he'd read several times. 

Maybe it really helped that he could imagine Severus' voice reading to him. Because now, it was always Severus with him in his fantasies. Whenever the man's image started to waver a little, all Harry had to do was think about the way they'd kissed on Saturday night, and Severus would snap into sharp, clear focus. All of him. It was actually good, Harry thought, and not just because it meant that the spell would have no reason to punish him. It was also . . . well, it was like he was finally getting into the spirit of _Cambiare Podentes_. Really, the enchantment he was living under was supposed to be all about sex, wasn't it? Sex with Severus. And now Harry was finally having some, right? Well, sort of. He was only fantasising, at the moment. But his fantasies weren't upsetting him the way they would have before. It just seemed natural to be thinking things like that. To be wondering, as he bit his lip to keep from howling with pleasure as he came, if he could make Severus come just by licking the man's cock, base to tip, base to tip. 

Sometimes now, he tasted his own semen and wondered if Severus' would taste the same. 

The idea of finding out . . . it was almost comfortable, now. Maybe because by now, he'd sucked Severus off in his fantasies. Several times. Harry was positive that he just needed a little while longer, and he'd be ready to make that first move. Another couple of weeks, that was all. Maybe a month. Well, maybe that was being a bit optimistic. He had to be sure he was ready before he leapt off a cliff like that. Pulling back at the last second, after all, would be so unfair to Severus. _Yule season,_ Harry thought, nodding to himself. He'd be able to concentrate on it, then. No job, no students . . . Yes, definitely by then, or perhaps New Year's at the very, very latest, he'd-- 

"Potter?" 

Oh, God. Harry had completely forgotten that Bryerson was waiting for him to follow him up to his office. He'd been standing here thinking about sex, instead. Not too professional. Sometimes it happened during class, too. He'd been a little distracted this week, he knew. He hoped Bryerson didn't want to talk to him about _that_. 

But at least his Severus fantasies had meant that Harry had started feeling a lot more at ease about assisting during Defence classes. Bryerson was probably about to change that, Harry thought as he nodded in agreement and followed the other man up the short flight of stairs. 

"Have a seat," said Bryerson, who perched atop his desk. He seemed to regard Harry as though wondering how to begin. "So, I've noticed that your essay comments have improved a good deal, lately." 

That didn't sound so bad. Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm still amazed at some of the odd ideas the students seem to pick up, but I've been trying not to let it show as much." 

"And you've done a fine job of encouraging students to stop calling you by your first name," continued Bryerson. "I know it seems like a small matter, but if they think of you as a mate it really will have repercussions when it comes to instruction." 

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I can see that." 

Bryerson leaned forward slightly. "However, you still need to work on how you interact with the classes, Potter. You really do seem to avoid the left half of the room. Are you aware of that?" 

Harry blinked. "I've been working extra hard to make sure I treat the left and right halves the same. Really, I have. You haven't noticed any difference at all?" 

A slight frown settled between Bryerson's eyes. "Hmm. I think I have, in most classes. But not with the first-years. You're not giving the Slytherins their fair share of your attention, not in that class." 

Harry's heart sank. He could just see it, now. He'd been dealing all right with having nasty little Charles Bole in class, but only because he'd avoided getting near the horrible child. But Bryerson was going to insist that Harry circulate more. Help _all_ the students. 

_It's only for seven years,_ a half-hysterical voice inside him said. _You can stand it for seven years._

The trouble was, seven years felt like forever. Harry would have looked for another job on the spot, if he could. But that wasn't an option, not for him. "Yes, Professor," he said. He sounded sulky even to his own ears, so he tried again. "I'll work on it." 

"See that you do." Bryerson's brown eyes seemed to be studying him intently. "Drink, Potter?" 

Harry shot to his feet. He might have straightened out his fantasy life, but having a drink with Bryerson sounded like a recipe for disaster. "Uh, no. I have to . . . er, Quidditch, you know? I'm running another clinic tomorrow and I'm not ready for it." He left man's office as quick as he could, almost tripping over his own feet to get out of there. 

_Smooth, Harry,_ he thought. _Very professional._

Oh, well. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 16, 1998 ---- 8:08 a.m.**

Harry sighed as he dragged a spoon through his porridge. 

"Something else you'd prefer?" asked Severus, crisply folding his newspaper and laying it aside. "You know you've only to ask." 

"I'm just dreading the stupid Quidditch clinic I scheduled. Four teams at once is too many students, and that's not even counting how annoyed they'll be this afternoon when they have to leave Hogsmeade early on my account." 

Severus stilled, not liking the sound of Harry's comments. He'd been looking forward to an extended session with Renard for weeks, now. This time, with Renard both looking and acting like Harry. Severus deserved a morning and afternoon of pleasure, didn't he? Once in a while, at least? He'd been as patient with Harry as anyone could expect, but there were limits, after all. If he didn't get some relief soon, he'd be throwing Harry to his back on the bed and-- 

No, Severus couldn't imagine that much good could come of that. 

_Though it would certainly feel good,_ he inwardly groused. And it was high time, wasn't it? He was owed something for all these months of restraint and consideration. Something besides one unpleasant, almost clinical evening in which he'd had Harry only because he'd forced him magically, if not physically. No matter that Harry had consented. Had begged Severus to do it, actually. The memory was still one he tried not to think about. 

He'd feel better after seeing Renard . . . though now even that sounded like it might be in some doubt.. "I'm sure your lesson today will go well," he said smoothly. 

"Ha. Wish I could just cancel the whole thing." 

Concern became something more like mild alarm. "You aren't going to do that." 

Harry glanced up. "No, of course not. It'd be too much like skiving off classes. Staff are supposed to be more dependable. I have to act like I'm a teacher now, you know?" He made a face. "Guess I'd better finish eating so I can use the morning to figure out how to run things better, this week." 

Severus breathed a sigh of relief. For one moment there, he'd suspected that Harry might ask to do something with Severus, instead. That would normally be a very good thing, of course, but not today. Definitely, not today. They had tentatively agreed, in any case, that they would spend next weekend together, even taking a short trip abroad. 

And after a good session with Renard, Severus would be able to keep his hands to himself when he was with Harry in Paris or Rome or Cologne. 

"Yes, you don't want to seem indecisive or weak to the students," said Severus, nodding to show that he entirely agreed. "Quite likely, it's more important for you than for any of the other staff, since you're so young and already acquainted with so many of the students." 

Harry's lips twisted like he was trying not to smile. "Yeah, I know. You could get away with cancelling something, I bet. But if I do, the students'll right away think I don't know what I'm doing, or something." 

"Give it a few years, and you'll develop enough of a reputation that you'll have more latitude, as well." 

"Ha. If I don't learn to teach more to the left, Bryerson'll probably say my contract should be cancelled," grumbled Harry. 

"I think you know how secure your job is," said Severus dryly. "However, I would recommend you try to satisfy Bryerson's requirements." 

"Easier said than done." 

Harry sounded so odd that Severus lifted an eyebrow. "What's the matter?" 

"Oh, nothing really--" Harry suddenly gasped and rubbed a palm to his temple. "God damn it, I hate these headaches!" 

Severus hadn't missed the answering sensation of the mind bond alerting him to a lie. Even without Harry's telltale reaction, he would have known. "If you hate them so much, don't lie to me." 

"You make it sound like I make stuff up all the time! Thanks!" 

Actually, Severus had thought it remarkable that this aspect of the bond wasn't flaring a good deal more often. He'd long supposed Harry Potter a habitual liar, but the past summer had forced him to admit that the conviction had been a mistake on his part. Harry hadn't lied once since that awful night when Severus had learned about the rape. "You're usually very honest," he admitted in a level tone. "And so this must be something important. What is the problem, then?" 

"Noth--" Harry visibly gulped. "I just mean, I'd rather handle it myself. All right?" 

Severus considered Harry for a long moment. He could force him to talk, he knew. But Harry was an adult, and worthy of more respect than that, for all he was Severus' slave. "All right." 

Harry relaxed a little, blowing out his breath as though he'd been holding it. "I'll go upstairs and figure out how to make the clinic work better, this week. Maybe I should section off parts of the pitch, or . . ." He got up, but on the way out of the room, paused to turn back. "Have a good day, Severus." 

Severus could feel his lips curling upwards. "Oh, I shall." 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 16, 1998 ---- 9:45 a.m.**

Harry started slightly when he heard a knock on his door. He didn't get many visitors, though once when he'd heard a knock he'd had to rush up from the dungeons so that he could let McGonagall into the upstairs rooms. She'd offered him a little lion emblem to pin onto teaching robes. Harry appreciated that, but of course he'd refused. As sorry as he was to disappoint her, he knew he had to rely on Severus for all his needs and wants. Not that he'd really wanted it. If he were head of Gryffindor, maybe. But as it was, he thought it wouldn't do him any good to emphasize his house affiliation. The other three houses were bound to think him biased even without that. 

A few other teachers had also come by to welcome him, back when term had just started, but since then, nobody much had visited. 

Bemused, Harry got up to answer the door. He was more than a little surprised when it swung open to reveal Dumbledore. He saw the man at meals sometimes, and spoke with him in passing occasionally, but the headmaster wasn't in the habit of seeking him out. He seemed to believe he needed to leave Harry and Severus alone to work their own way through things. Which was probably a good idea, actually. 

But he was here now. 

"Come in," Harry said, suddenly feeling nervous. 

Dumbledore walked in calmly, the floppy hat on his head wiggling. When he reached the centre of the sitting room, he turned around once as though to survey it. A slight frown wrinkled his forehead. "This room looks exactly the same as it did the last time I was here, Harry." 

Harry blinked. "I guess, yeah." 

The old man's voice sounded very gentle. "I'm certain you can put your own stamp on it." 

"I have," said Harry, feeling defensive by then. "It's just that the miniature Venice I had in here got moved to the bed so I could use the table to draw some Quidditch diagrams." He gestured toward them, a little irritated by the whole conversation. Severus wasn't treating him badly, not at all, and for Dumbledore to assume otherwise . . . even now, he didn't look terribly reassured, Harry thought, frowning. 

"Ah, Quidditch." The wrinkles across Dumbledore's forehead became more pronounced. "The reason I came, actually. I've a favour to ask." 

That made Harry's thoughts screech to a halt. He hoped what he'd been thinking hadn't shown too much on his face. Severus still told him that he gave a lot away with his expressions. Trying to counter that, Harry strove for a thoroughly professional tone. "Of course, Headmaster. What can I do for you?" 

"You sound like Severus." 

Harry met the headmaster's gaze. "Well, I do spend a lot of time with him, you know." 

Dumbledore nodded, the motion suddenly brisk. "Yes, of course. At any rate, I came here to ask if you'd reconsider chaperoning today's Hogsmeade trip. I know you preferred not to, but Professor Flitwick has fallen suddenly ill." 

Harry could feel his eyes practically light up. _Yes_ , he'd rather go into Hogsmeade than run another disaster of a Quidditch clinic. And with an excuse like this to cancel, he wouldn't run any risk of seeming irresponsible to the students. _Dumbledore asked me to help supervise the Hogsmeade visit instead . . ._

It was perfect. "Oh, sure," said Harry, nodding. "I'll find the team captains and let them know that our extra practice will have to be cancelled." 

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Excellent. Hagrid and Professor Bryerson will be happy to have you along, I'm sure." 

Harry's good mood sank just a little. Time with Hagrid sounded good, but he really didn't want to listen to more of Bryerson's you-need-to-improve-your-teaching lectures. But there was no reason he had to stick by Bryerson much, was there? 

"The students are assembled and almost ready to leave, so--" 

Harry caught the hint. "I'll just pop down to the dungeons and let Severus know where I'll be," he said as the headmaster turned to go. 

But Severus wasn't anywhere to be found. 

Shrugging, Harry went back upstairs and then wound his way down to the front doors of the castle. He soon found the team captains to let them know the change of plan, and then set off with the others who were making their way to Hogsmeade. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 16, 1998 ---- 10:08 a.m.**

"It's good to see you outside of work for once, Potter," said Bryerson amiably, coming up beside Harry as they strolled down the path. 

Harry would rather have walked with just Hagrid, but Bryerson obviously wanted to join them and there was really no way to refuse. "This is work, though." 

"A bit more social than a typical lesson, I'd say." As if sensing Harry's unease around him, the man turned to Hagrid and asked him if the flobberworms had recovered from that nasty bout of squirming sickness. 

Harry could have joined in, but he thought Bryerson might steer the conversation around to Defence. Perhaps even to some strategies Harry could use with the first-years. Harry didn't need to spend his day off thinking about the likes of Charles Bole. 

_Good thing first-years aren't allowed to go into Hogsmeade,_ thought Harry, walking ahead a bit. Got him away from Bryerson, at least. That was all right until he realised that the girl in front of him was none other than Ginny Weasley. He saw her at Quidditch practices, of course, but he made sure that they were never alone. It wasn't that he thought she'd kiss him again. Actually, he was sure that she wouldn't. 

No, the problem now was that Harry was fairly certain she knew everything. Sometimes he caught her looking at him. Not with longing, like before. Now, her expression was filled with compassion. Pity, even. Her family had filled her in, and she obviously knew that Harry was enslaved. Forever unable to choose for himself what he wanted out of life, or even whom he wanted. 

_She probably even knows I'm bound to Snape,_ Harry thought, slowing his steps. 

Too late, though. Ginny glanced back as though she'd heard something. On seeing Harry, her expression at once filled with sorrow, but she quickly masked it as she stopped walking long enough to let him catch up to her. 

Short of being overtly rude, Harry had no choice but to walk with her the rest of the way into the village. 

"So, the Quidditch clinic was cancelled, eh?" 

Harry shrugged. "Probably shouldn't have scheduled one during a Hogsmeade trip, anyway." 

"Well, at least this way you get to enjoy an outing." 

_I've had plenty of outings with Severus,_ Harry wanted to say. What was it with everyone? First Dumbledore had acted like Harry was afraid to make himself at home where he lived, and now Ginny was implying that he was never allowed out, or something. It was ridiculous. Did they really think so little of Severus? 

_You used to_ , his conscience reminded him. 

"I've actually had a lot of outings lately," Harry said, feeling a little bit smug about it. Nobody else was anywhere near them, so he went on to detail. "Over the summer I went abroad a few times." 

Ginny glanced at him. "Oh, with . . . er . . ." 

"He took me, yeah." 

She gave him a tentative smile, the expression uneasy. Worried, even. "I've wanted to talk to you about that, Harry--" 

"No offence, but I don't really want to talk about it." 

"No, no, I meant . . ." Ginny seemed to swallow. "I didn't know. I'd never have put you in the position I did, back at that party last year, if I'd known you had to . . . er, if I'd known, that's all." She blew out a breath that made a strand of hair fly up. "It's just, I was so sure that we were meant to be together." 

Harry tried for his gentlest voice. "We aren't fated, Ginny. We never were." 

"Well, that's pretty clear by now." Ginny shook her head as though trying to get away from that subject. "So, what about you, Harry? Are you liking your job?" 

"Yeah, pretty much." 

"Sounds more like _not much_." 

"Things lately have been a little tricky. I think two teams at once, for scrimmages, is the most I should work with." 

"That clinic last week was a bit . . . yeah. What about Defence?" 

"All right, I suppose." 

"You suppose? It's always been your favourite subject!" 

"Teaching's a little more difficult than I would have thought." 

At that, Ginny turned and stared at him. "You were brilliant in D.A!" 

"It's not the same." Harry decided it wouldn't do any harm to go into details. "D.A. was nothing but practicals. I didn't have to mark loads of essays every week." 

"There is that." Ginny's smile turned wistful. "I was hoping you'd assist in my year." 

Harry didn't want to tell her that she was the reason he'd asked to help with the lower forms. "I was a little worried you'd all treat me like a mate, you know?" 

They walked on in silence after that, until Ginny suddenly turned to him, her cheeks a little bit flushed. "Are you all right, then? With . . . well, you know. Ron said you didn't seem too upset, considering, and that . . . er, _he_ was looking out for you and being more or less a decent sort about things, and--" 

Harry had to cut her off. "He's all right, but I really can't talk much about it. I mean, that's our personal business, Ginny." 

"I just needed to hear you say it," Ginny murmured, grimacing a little. "I can sympathise more than you think, Harry. Mum's a bit mad on the subject of marriages." She lowered her voice. "Bill's head over heels for Fleur, you know, but Mum thinks _she_ should have free rein to pick him a bride." 

Harry remembered discussing all this with Severus, but before he could change the subject, Ginny was speaking again. "I'm lucky that Dad's not so set on arranged marriages. Every so often I think about what might happen if I didn't have him on my side. Gives me nightmares, it does. So . . . I understand how awful it might be, not getting to choose for yourself." 

Harry thought back then, to the time he and Severus had discussed wizarding customs like arranged marriages. Severus had admitted that he'd expected one, himself. That his grandfather would have insisted, had he lived. That his mother had thought the idea a sound one after her love match with Tobias Snape had ended badly. 

Severus had said he'd never expected to choose for himself whom he'd marry, anyway. And what had he meant by that, really? That having Harry be bound to him wasn't such an imposition . . . that it was almost like-- 

_Huh,_ thought Harry, almost doing a double-take. _Severus sounded sort of like he looked on Cambiare Podentes almost like one of those arranged marriages he was talking about._

They were almost in Hogsmeade by then, and Harry didn't want to talk about arranged marriages any longer. Or at least, not with Ginny. He waved to indicate Hagrid and Bryerson, who were approaching by then. "I, uh, should really get back my colleagues, you know?" 

Ginny's nodded, her eyes shadowed as she watched him leave. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 16, 1998 ---- 10:32 a.m.**

"How about that drink, Potter?" asked Bryerson, gesturing as though to indicate that the invitation included Hagrid, as well. 

"I . . . er . . ." To Harry's dismay, he couldn't think of an excuse fast enough. What was he going to say, after all? He couldn't claim work commitments, not today. And it wasn't as though staff had to stick close to the students or follow them around, or anything. They merely needed to be in the village in case any of the students needed assistance. "I thought I might pal around with Hagrid--" 

"Ach, you go off w' the professor, Harry," said Hagrid in a booming voice. "Nothin' like two hard workers out fer a drink down the pub, I always say!" 

Now Harry really couldn't refuse, he thought. But it was probably a bit immature to try to avoid Bryerson, anyway. "Sounds good," he said weakly. 

"That's the spirit." Bryerson led the way to the Three Broomsticks and insisted on paying for the drinks. 

When the man came back from the bar, carrying their drinks, Harry stared at them, bemused. Ale and mead. It made him remember Severus transfiguring drinks back and forth as he explained the wizarding world to Harry. 

Thinking about it, Harry started to feel just awful. Even after hearing that men being attracted to other men was perfectly acceptable, he'd still refused to come here drinking with Severus. He hadn't wanted to be seen drinking with him. And after everything Severus had done for him! 

_I should do something in return,_ Harry thought. _Buy him something while I'm in town, maybe. More sweets? No, I gave him those last time--_

"So I hope I wasn't too harsh with you, yesterday," Bryerson said, breaking into Harry's thoughts. "You had an odd look on your face as you left. And really, Potter, you are doing a fine job in general. It's just that I think you have the potential to do much better, you understand." 

Well, that certainly made Harry feel quite a bit better. As long as he didn't think about Bole, that was. But Harry wasn't about to let _him_ ruin his day. "Thanks," he said, sipping his drink. He cast about for something to say, feeling awkward about the whole thing. He couldn't help it. Just looking at Bryerson made him remember his fantasies. Made him remember wanting to impress the man, and not just because he'd be evaluating Harry's work. It was all very embarrassing, now. "Er . . . so how do you like Scotland, then? You haven't lived here before, I think you said?" 

"I quite like the countryside around Hogwarts." Bryerson smiled. "I haven't lived here, before, but my fiancée's parents have a house not too far away. I visited them last year and thought then that Scotland had some of the loveliest landscapes I'd ever seen." 

Harry felt a choking feeling rising in his throat. Bryerson was engaged to be married? He was almost afraid to ask, but some part of him had to. "Oh. Your fiancée?" 

Bryerson smiled widely. "Eloise, yes. She's apprenticed to a master wand maker in Hungary at the moment. A pity the post doesn't allow her much time off." His expression became wistful. "I've been telling myself all along that the Yule holidays will be here soon, but sometimes it feels like forever until December." 

Harry drained his drink, feeling like a complete idiot by then. The man wasn't even gay! If Harry hadn't come to his senses, he'd still be having those fantasies, and getting upset when the idiot girls in class giggled over Bryerson . . . _and the man wasn't even gay!_

He felt himself go cold all over, because there was more at stake here than the fact that he might have made such a complete fool out of himself. Only now was he understanding that there'd been times when he'd wanted to touch Bryerson. Touch his hair. Brush against him in passing . . . 

Harry didn't even want to think about what the spell might have done to him if he'd given in to impulses like that. 

"Maybe your fiancée can come visit, see the castle," he said faintly. 

Bryerson's eyebrows drew together. "She's doing a demanding apprenticeship that doesn't allow for much time off." 

Oh, right. Bryerson had just said that. Well, Harry acting like an idiot around Bryerson was nothing new. He abruptly stood up. "I've actually some things to do, Professor. Thanks for the drink." 

"We'll have to do it again, sometime." 

"Uh, yeah." Harry got out of there as quickly as he could and began wandering aimlessly down the main street in Hogsmeade. He passed Honeydukes without much interest, since he really did think it would be bad form to get Severus sweets twice in a row. Still, the longer he looked in shop windows the more he realised that he ought to find some sort of gift for Severus. Looking back, he couldn't help but think that his behaviour toward the other man had been . . . well, pretty neglectful, actually. Refusing to so much as be _seen_ with him until quite recently. Not even talking to him during meals, at first. Asking to be seated somewhere else, in fact. 

Thinking on all that, Harry almost wanted to hang his head in shame. Especially considering how Severus had been acting, all along. He'd put up with Harry's sulks and his moods, and he really didn't have to. The spell had given him a lot of power over Harry, after all. This very morning, he'd known that Harry had lied to him, but instead of forcing him to tell the truth, he'd let Harry have a personal life. 

He didn't even get angry all that often. Certainly, not as often as Harry had been expecting when he'd first learned about the spell. Really, since the invocation, the only time Severus had been truly furious with him had been back when Harry had stolen the Dragon's Happy. 

_That's it,_ Harry suddenly thought. _That's what I can get Severus. Finally, something I'm sure he'd really like. Dragon's Happy to replace the powder that I took without permission!_

The trouble was, Dragon's Happy didn't exactly grow on trees, did it? Harry looked around in the apothecary and didn't see any. Well, it was a rather unusual thing to need. Severus had said it was pretty hard to get. Harry wasn't even sure where to start looking. Knockturn Alley? He couldn't really go there on his own, and if he invited Severus to go with him, that would sort of defeat the purpose. 

It was a relief when Harry saw Hagrid. He might have an idea. 

"Might find summat like that if yeh look 'round the back streets," said Hagrid, scratching his beard with one hand. "I could show you to a few shops I use ta get strange sortsa food fer some a my creatures. Not places yeh should show the students, mind." 

"It's for Snape," said Harry, feeling kind of pleased that he could admit to being friendly with the man, now. He still didn't want people to know he was enslaved to him, particularly, but he was done pretending to not even know him. "You know how he likes to have really bizarre ingredients on hand." 

"That I do, that I do," said Hagrid, not even blinking an eye at the implication that Harry and Severus must be getting on all right, these days. He began to wind away from the main street through the village, back through alleyways Harry had never noticed before, until they reached a maze of streets that seemed to lack all signs. Not a single student was in sight. 

Harry thought he'd explored every bit of Hogsmeade, but he'd never seen this part of it, before. He had a sneaking suspicion that there were spells scattered about to ward students away. Though for all that, the street didn't have the sinister feel of Knockturn Alley. 

Harry blinked when he turned a corner and saw Severus entering a building a short distance away. He seemed to be moving quickly, his black robes streaming out behind him. Before Harry could call out to him, however, the door closed behind him. 

_Probably a potions-specialty shop_ , Harry thought. _Selling things that are barely legal, since there aren't any adverts in the windows. You'd have to know the shop was there._

If any place might have some Dragon's Happy for sale, Harry thought that shop would. 

"Let's wait over there," said Harry, pointing to a shadowy area in a nearby side street. "And after Snape comes out and is out of sight, we'll go in and see if they have any Dragon's Happy." 

Hagrid softly guffawed. "There's no such thing to be had in there, and as for Professor Snape . . . I 'spect he'll be in there a fair while." 

Harry didn't understand. "What, he likes to talk potions with the owner, or something?" 

Hagrid's chuckles grew louder as he patted Harry on the shoulder. Or tried to, rather. Coming from Hagrid, the affectionate gesture became something more like a series of stout blows. "Ach, Harry! Professor Snape's not gone in there fer potions, of all things! That's a brothel, it is, and . . ." Hagrid chuckled again. "Best to move on, I think." 

Harry turned away from the building. Hard not to, really, when Hagrid was kind of pushing at him, now. But something didn't quite make sense. Normally he wouldn't discuss Severus' personal business like this, but he was startled now, and speaking without thinking. 

"But he's gay," he protested. "That can't be a brothel. He wouldn't have any reason to want to visit one! I mean, unless somebody in there needed a rare potion, or--" 

Hagrid made a choking sound then, sounding as though this time, he was trying to hold in his laughter. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. "Aye, 'tis a brothel, Harry. For wizards tha' prefer their own." 

For one moment more, Harry didn't know what to think. The idea of men with men didn't startle him any longer, but he obviously still had a lot to learn, since it had never once occurred to him that there were brothels for that sort of thing . . . 

Then the truth dawned past his shock, and Harry felt himself go cold all over. A brothel, was it? And Severus thought it was fine to just go right inside, did he? No wonder he'd been in such a fine mood that morning, practically cheerful! 

_Sure he thought I ought to keep the Quidditch clinic scheduled,_ thought Harry, furious. _He wasn't worried about whether I was coming across as responsible to the students. No, he was just worried about coming. With somebody else!_

An image sprang into Harry's mind, then, of Severus with another man. And thanks to all the reading he'd been doing in that damned book, not to mention his shower fantasies, he didn't have any trouble envisioning the scene. Severus, naked, his long, thick cock on display. But it was another man's hand stroking him, wasn't it? And then Severus was moaning, pulling the other man close for a kiss-- 

Harry started to feel like he was burning up, he was so angry. _I will bind myself to you,_ ha! He didn't know what the hell Severus had meant by that, but it seemed pretty damned clear what he _hadn't_ meant. And there Harry had started to think that Severus might actually have meant something significant. How completely stupid could he get? 

Because here was Severus, _cheating_ on him! And not just cheating, but right here in Hogsmeade, just a few bludger hits from the castle! 

_But of course,_ thought Harry, gritting his teeth. _His little . . . whores are more convenient that way, aren't they? He's probably been coming down here all along. Why wouldn't he? He told me from the start that Cambiare Podentes wasn't going to impose any sort of limits on him!_

A voice mockingly echoed in his head. _Were you under the impression that this was destined to be a relationship of equals, Mr Potter?_

"Harry!" exclaimed Hagrid beside him, more or less dragging him down an alleyway. "Yeh look awful! Comin' down with somethin', are yeh?" 

A meaty palm covered half his face as Hagrid tried to feel for fever. 

Harry knocked the hand away, harder than he'd intended. Not that Hagrid was likely to notice. "I just need some time alone," he said, the words emerging like he was biting them out, one by one. 

Something seemed to flicker in Hagrid's eyes, just before the half-giant nodded. "Yeh didn't know there was a brothel here in Hogsmeade, eh? Well, it's not summat students would know, is it, but no reason why professors shouldn't visit if the urge strikes--" 

_Oh, yeah,_ thought Harry. _No reason at all. It's not like he's bound to me, is it?_

Anger overwhelming him, Harry took a step backwards, then tried to turn around. He wasn't just going to put up with this. He was going to go in there and see just what sort of trash Severus liked to sleep with! He'd just see, wouldn't he, who was so important that Severus would slink around when Harry was supposed to be busy with Quidditch, and sneak off for visits! 

And to think he'd been concerned, he'd actually been worried, that it was cruel to tease Severus with stories from that book. When all along, Severus was just trotting down here to get his jollies, anytime he liked! 

"Whoa, Harry," said Hagrid, pushing on him, more-or-less forcing Harry back down the alley, away from the back street where the brothel was located. "I can't think why yeh'd be so upset about Professor Snape takin' his business there, but best we leave him to it, yeh think?" 

_Oh, God,_ thought Harry, vaguely sickened. If he'd given in to his first instinct, he'd be in the brothel by now, shouting down the roof to get Severus' attention, and after that, there'd be no hiding the fact that he and Severus were intimately involved. 

Except they weren't, were they? Severus had his _whore_ to see to his needs! He could have come to Harry, but _no_ , he'd rather go purchase his pleasures than spend a little time with the man who was pledged to him. 

And this, after Harry had worked so hard to get rid of his Bryerson fantasies and replace them with ones about Severus. Damn it, Harry had sweated and struggled to be faithful in _everything_ , even his most private thoughts, and here was Severus whipping out his cock in _whorehouses_ , for God's sake, without so much as a word about it! 

He was doing it again, Harry realised. Getting angry. Angry enough to stomp back to the brothel and raise holy hell. But he couldn't do that, really. He didn't want everybody to know that he was gay, for one. Or a slave. And he sure didn't want Voldemort finding out about _Cambiare Podentes._

If Harry threw a fit over Severus cheating on him, and did it in front of witnesses . . . no, that just wouldn't be a very clever thing to do. 

So Harry tamped down his anger, squashing it into a little ball, then shoving it somewhere deep inside him, where it simmered and simmered and simmered, all through the rest of the day in Hogsmeade. It flared up inside him occasionally, like when he and Hagrid went into Honeydukes and Harry saw the kind of chocolate he'd bought for Severus, that time. To think that Harry had been trying to figure out what he could do to _thank_ the man . . . 

Finally, the interminable day was over, and he and Hagrid were walking along the road back to the castle, giggling students dashing past them, bags bulging with sweets. They met up with Bryerson on the way, and for one long moment, Harry was tempted to get even with Severus, he really was. It wouldn't be difficult. Bryerson _was_ , after all, a very attractive man, and it wasn't as though Harry hadn't thought about touching _him_ , plenty of times. 

But then it came to him that even if he wanted to be choked to death by fucking _Cambiare Podentes,_ it was no use, anyway. Bryerson wasn't even gay. _And_ he had a fiancée. 

And what was more, _he_ was probably a decent enough person to actually _keep_ any promises he had made! 

_I will bind myself to you . . ._ Harry wanted to throw something. 

Preferably, Severus. At a brick wall. 

When they reached the castle, he was too angry to go inside. He knew he'd do something violent if he saw Severus now. Something dangerous. And while the contract never had said that the supplicant mustn't attack the master wizard and beat him within an inch of his bloody life, Harry was pretty sure he'd better not give in to an urge like that. 

So he headed for the pitch and tried to work off his anger another way: by flying. He grabbed a practice broom out of a shed and headed skyward. Around and around the pitch he zoomed, faster and faster, whipping around goal posts, plunging toward the ground at speeds so fast his ears hurt from the wind whistling past them. His hands gripped the broom fiercely, threatening to snap the handle. He might have, actually. The broom was no Firebolt. 

As a means of working off his anger, flying wasn't really working, Harry thought with disgust. The longer he was out here, the more furious he was becoming. He wondered how many filthy whores Severus had had, that day, and just what he had done with each one. He wondered if Severus had any _favourites_ among the sex workers in that brothel, and if so, just how often he went to see them. Damn it, Harry wasn't going to stand for this. 

Severus was _his_. 

And for once, Harry didn't care what the spell might have to say. Severus was his, and that was all there was to it! 

Growling, Harry flung the practice broom aside, not even looking as it flew itself to the practice shed and waited to be let in. His step fast and hard, he marched up the hill to the castle, then stormed inside and headed straight down to the dungeons. He didn't even think about taking the usual route to the upstairs rooms so he could slip below ground unnoticed. 

This time, he stomped all the way to Severus' door and _shouted_ the password that would let him in, then slammed the door and shouted for Severus, for good measure. 

But the man wasn't home. 

Of course not. _He_ was probably still at the whorehouse. Harry sat down, fuming, his lips twisted at the mere thought. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 16, 1998 ---- 7:38 p.m.**

"We missed you at dinner," said Severus in a mild voice as he came in and hung his outer robes by the door. 

Oh. Severus had been at dinner. Well, he sure as hell hadn't been at dinner earlier, had he? Harry knew just where he'd been, and he didn't much appreciate the way Severus was looking at him now, just as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Ha. He and his little whores had probably used some butter, earlier. As a lubricant. It had featured in that story Severus liked, the one about the alchemist-- 

"I wasn't hungry," spat Harry, setting aside his glass of firewhiskey. "But you were, weren't you?" 

Severus gave him a questioning look, then reached into the pocket of the robe he still wore. "I saw this in Hogsmeade and thought you might appreciate it." 

Harry didn't stop to think. He didn't even spare a glance at the small box in Severus' palm. Anger overtaking him that Severus would _dare_ try to mollify him with gifts, he whipped out his wand and incinerated the object. Whatever it was. 

A sickening smell filled the room. Scorched chocolate. 

Harry wasn't satisfied, though. He wanted to burn more than gifts, that was for damned sure. He lifted his wand again. 

But this time, it didn't work. No magic flowed through his wand. 

"You can't do magic I disapprove of," said Severus in a hard voice. "What's the meaning of this? If you're upset about something, you might consider letting me know before you start firing off spells." 

"I'll let you know, all right," shouted Harry. So Severus was going to use _Cambiare Podentes_ against him, was he? Severus was going to rub it in that Harry was the slave and didn't have any say, and couldn't really object to whatever damned thing Severus wanted to do! 

A wave of fury seemed to explode inside him, then propel him toward Severus. Harry landed against him hard, smashing the other man back against the wall. So Harry was the slave, was he? Well, Harry would just show _him_. 

Harry's cock stiffened as he began thrusting his hips up sharply against Severus' thigh. Yes, like that. Exactly like that. Hard thrusts, and then harder ones still, until Harry was grinding against the other man. Severus was his. _His_. And Severus wasn't going to forget that, not ever again. 

"You're mine," Harry said, the words a furious hiss. He wasn't sure Severus had understood, so he grabbed the other man's shoulders and shoved them back against the wall, hard enough to bruise. "Mine. Mine! Say it! You're mine!" 

Severus' voice sounded hollow, and like it was coming from a long way off. "I'm . . . yours." 

"Yeah, you are, and you damned well better not forget it again," snarled Harry. He'd thought the admission would satisfy him, but somehow, it wasn't enough. His cock was straining, aching, wanting more. "I won't let you forget it!" 

Suddenly, the contact he had with Severus seemed like nothing compared to what he needed. Harry struggled for a second, standing on tip-toe, trying to increase the friction, but he couldn't quite connect. 

A incoherent sound, something between a moan and a shout, shot past his lips as frustrated, he grabbed Severus by the shoulders again, and this time yanked him forward and threw him bodily to the floor. Then Harry was atop him, cock-to-cock, his hips grinding, short sharp thrusts that gave him what he needed. 

Yes, like that. And that. Severus was his, _his_ , and Harry was going to have him. Right here, right now, exactly like this. The way Harry wanted him. Just this way. 

But no, this wasn't quite what Harry wanted, he realised dimly through the pleasure pounding through his cock. He needed more. His jeans were too tight, his pants scratchy. Almost chafing. This wasn't right . . . he wanted the smooth slide of skin on skin. Wanted them both naked. Needed it. Craved it. 

Harry shoved a hand down between them, tugging at the fabric in his way. Too much fabric, too many layers. Grunting, he started yanking on cloth, yanking until it felt like something popped free and his hand was inside, on something large and hot and heavy. 

A cock, but not his own. It seemed to leap into his hand and nestle in his palm, clinging to it with a humid warmth that was just too much for Harry to take. 

He stroked it, just one time as his hips kept thrusting, and that was all it took. Harry moaned as he began to come, his whole body spasming along with his cock. Oh, God, did that feel good. Everything about it felt perfect, Harry dazedly thought, from the surges pulsing through his cock, to the firm, heavy handful of flesh sliding back and forth across his fingers. 

The pleasure too much to bear, Harry crushed his lips against Severus' and kissed him hard. Claiming him, making Severus _his_ , even sharply biting the other man's lower lip when it seemed like he was trying to get away. 

"Mine," he muttered, lifting his mouth finally, well after the last pulse of pleasure had shuddered through him. 

Severus yanked his head back down, his own hips still jerking upward, his cock moving frantically in Harry's hand, his arms wrapping around Harry's back to crush their bodies together. And then Severus was coming, too, his kiss growing wetter and almost haphazard as his whole body spasmed several times in quick succession. Warm fluid pooled over Harry's fingertips. Warm, sticky fluid. And that felt good, too. 

So much so, that in that instant, Harry couldn't imagine ever wanting to move, again. He just wanted to lie here, atop Severus, his hand between them holding the man's cock, their breathing matched so that it felt like they were one person. 

But of course it couldn't last forever. After a few moments, Severus went utterly limp, their embrace ending as his arms dropped away. 

Sighing a little, Harry rolled off him to sit cross-legged at his side. He didn't know what to say. Or where to start. It vaguely came to him that he should probably be embarrassed that he'd thrown Severus to his back and had him, right there on the dungeon floor. But he wasn't embarrassed. 

"Well, that was certainly a breakthrough," the other man finally drawled. 

Harry wanted to hit him. Or use _Incendio_ again, maybe. Not that it was likely to work. And knowing that it wouldn't made Harry angry again. Or maybe, it just made him angrier, still. "Don't be an arse," he snarled, shoving Severus back down when it seemed like the other man was trying to sit up. "That's not what this was about, and you know it!" 

It struck Harry then, though, that Severus didn't know it. "What's this all about, then?" he asked, his features almost blank. 

No point in mincing words. "You're a liar and a cheat, that's what." 

Severus raised an eyebrow as he lay flat on his back, his expression now one of cool amusement. "I'm a liar and a cheat, and that makes you pounce on me and demand sex?" 

"I _didn't_ \--" Harry stopped quickly, because of course that was exactly what he'd done. "You aren't going there again," he said instead. 

That eyebrow dropped, and then Severus' lips twisted a little, like he was brooding. He'd obviously understood. "How did you find out?" 

"I _saw_ you!" shouted Harry, the memory still like acid inside him. "All these months I've been trying so hard to get it all back, and struggling, and _suffering_ for it, damn it, and all the time, you were dancing off to visit whores! _Prostitutes!_ You bastard!" 

He couldn't help it, then. As Severus pushed himself into a sitting position, Harry struck him, a hard blow to the side of his face. He heard a sickening crack and knew then and there that Severus' cheek was going to sport one hell of a bruise. 

Harry stiffened, but nothing happened. Severus didn't hit him back, and the spell didn't appear to notice what he'd done. 

Not that Severus looked pleased. He was glowering. "Don't hit me again." 

"Oh, so sorry to ruin the moment," said Harry, sneering. Only realising then that he felt uncomfortable, he snatched his wand from where it had fallen, and cast a cleaning charm over his crotch and thighs. Hmm, and hand. At least those spells worked, he thought bitterly as he decided to leave Severus messy. "And just so you know, I will hit you again, if you go to that place. I'll do worse than hit you, and if you think I give a flying flip what _Podentes_ has to say about it, then you can take your head out of your arse for once!" 

Severus was lightly poking at his cheek, and wincing. "Perhaps you could calm down while I treat this." 

"Oh, I feel very calm," said Harry, getting to his feet. He wasn't quite sure what was happening to him, but he felt like he finally had something he'd needed for a long time. And it wasn't the sex, though that had been good. Better than good. Like a pent-up spell finally set free . . . no, what he had now was something more profound than a moment's pleasure. He felt like he had the upper hand. 

He felt confident. Slave or no. "You can come upstairs when you're ready," Harry said, crossing his arms as he stared at Severus, who was lurching to his own feet. His balance looked off, maybe because of that blow. Harry knew a twinge of conscience over that, but ruthlessly crushed it. He was in no mood to be nice. "You can come up and tell me what the hell you thought you were doing! And then you can just come back down here alone, because I really don't feel much like sleeping in your bed tonight. Is that damned good and clear?" 

"The contract--" 

"Ha, the contract knows that the bed upstairs is yours as well," interrupted Harry in a cold voice. "And I'm going to sleep in it, _alone_ , until you can explain to my satisfaction what makes you such a lying louse and just how you plan to avoid being one in the future. Because I won't be treated like this, Severus. I don't care how much of a slave I am, I'm a person, too. And the contract said for me to be myself. Which I'm being. So deal with it." 

With that, he went upstairs and showered, soaping himself all over and letting the hot water rinse him clean. But this time, he felt no urge to tease his cock and balls until he found release. 

This time, he was already sated. 

  
  
  
  



	28. Chapter 28

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 16, 1998 ---- 9:11 p.m.**

Severus scowled at himself in the mirror, his finger poking again at the bruise forming on his cheek. Harry did know how to land a blow. Not that Severus had deserved one, particularly. He hadn't done anything wrong. 

Harry clearly thought he had, though. And that certainly complicated matters. Severus sighed a little, thinking about it. 

In a way, this development with Harry--enthusiastic sex, at last--was well-timed. Severus had already concluded, earlier that day, that Renard wasn't what he really wanted. Even a Renard Polyjuiced to look like Harry was a poor substitute for the real thing. 

It wasn't that his time in the brothel had been flawed in some way. It just hadn't been entirely satisfying. Severus had walked home from Hogsmeade, shaking his head at times as he remembered how he hadn't been able to fully enjoy his time in the brothel. He'd kept looking at Harry's face and figure and thinking, _but this isn't really Harry. I want Harry._

_Maybe it's the lack of a nipple ring jolting me out of the fantasy,_ Severus had even considered. _I could ask Renard to wear one while he's with me . . ._

But he'd discarded that idea almost at once. He knew the missing nipple ring wasn't really the problem. It was something deeper. He wanted Harry, in every way. His particular turn of speech, even including the immature and even inconsiderate things that sometimes crossed his lips. He wanted Harry's youth and relative innocence. Renard could pretend, but he was in his mid-twenties. He wasn't really Harry's age. 

He wasn't really Harry. 

For all that, Severus hadn't been sure, as he'd walked back to the castle, that he wouldn't go to see Renard again. He'd simply known that never again would he expect the encounter to be fully satisfying on every level. A release of pent-up need, yes. A pleasurable release, far more so than could be had through masturbation. But it wouldn't be everything he wanted. 

No . . . Harry was that. 

The sex they'd just had was proof of that. It had been rushed, of course. Over far too quickly, and neither one of them had been properly undressed. But for all that, it had been far more satisfying, and more complete, than the morning and afternoon he'd spent with Renard. 

Harry had really wanted him. Had been frantic with it. Harry had been possessive, saying again and again that Severus was his. He'd even made Severus say it. Harry had been passionate. Enthusiastic. And not a bit of that had been feigned. 

Severus stepped into the shower and soaped himself, washing his hair for good measure. Anything that might give him an advantage in the conversation still to come. The fact that he and Harry had finally had mutually enjoyable sex, that Harry had finally overcome his reluctance . . . well, that hardly solved everything, considering. 

Harry was furious with him, and Severus didn't want him to be. Not just because all that anger would probably keep Harry out of his bed for a good long while. He also didn't like knowing what lay behind the anger. 

He'd hurt Harry. Betrayed him -- though he hadn't, really. But it seemed that Harry thought he had. Severus wasn't quite certain how to set it all to rights, though now that Harry was ready for sex, it went without saying that Severus wouldn't be visiting Renard, or any other prostitute, again. Or maybe it didn't go without saying. Maybe Harry needed to hear him say it. 

Would he believe it, though? 

Severus dried his hair and body with a towel instead of a spell. He knew he was procrastinating, but he needed more time to think. As he dabbed bruise salve onto the mark on his cheek, he realised with dismay that all this delay hadn't done him any good at all. Why was it that he'd been able to outthink the Dark Lord, time and again, keeping the man off-balance and unaware of Severus' true loyalties, but when it came to Harry, a teenager, he suddenly felt unsure of himself? 

It wasn't supposed to be this way. _He_ was the master wizard in their arrangement. He was in charge. 

He was the one who owned Harry. 

Except, in some ways he was the one who was owned, here. _I'm yours,_ he'd just said at Harry's urging, his cock throbbing with each word. Harry possessive of him . . . Harry jealous . . . Harry wanting Severus enough throw him to his back and claim him in a frenzy of fierce, hot thrusting . . . Severus had enjoyed every minute of it. 

He'd enjoyed it enough to not question it, even. Which was unusual for him. His calculating, analytical mind had never quite stopped thinking while he'd been with Renard, noticing every detail that shattered the illusion that Polyjuice could provide. 

But one provocative look from Harry, and he'd started thinking with his cock. 

Only now was he realising what a tangle he was left with. Harry was over his reluctance, finally. Or some of it, at least. But how willing would he be, now that his passion was spent, and he was left with nothing but his anger towards Severus? 

_Enough procrastinating,_ Severus thought, combing fingers through his hair to sweep it away from his face. He reluctantly donned some drawstring pyjama bottoms and buttoned up his top. Then, there was nothing left to do but the obvious. _Time to go upstairs and face Harry._

It was surprisingly difficult to step through the doorway that would transport him upstairs, but Severus firmed his lips and moved through it. The _whooshing_ sensation that swept through him was usually barely noticeable, but this time he felt it keenly. _Nervousness,_ Severus thought. It always affected him that way. 

Harry was sitting in bed, propped up on pillows, reading a book. Bare-chested, wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms, his hair damp and slicked back but still a messy tangle, he almost looked the picture of seduction. Severus' mouth watered, even though he knew this wasn't some scene Harry had staged. Harry usually dressed like that for bed. And if he was waiting up for Severus, it was because he'd said he would. 

Severus' gaze caught on the gleaming metal of the nipple ring, which glinted as Harry turned to face him. He didn't often stare at it, as he'd thought it best all along not to remind Harry of his enslavement. And Harry would take a pointed stare that way, even though Severus thought of the nipple ring as a symbol of their bond, not a sign of Harry's status. 

Now, though, he couldn't help but fix his gaze on the small half-disk hanging below Harry's left nipple. It meant that Harry was _his_. And that meant more than before, now that Harry had finally rediscovered his sexual needs. 

_Now that he'd satisfied them with Severus, instead of alone._

"Your cheek looks better," said Harry in a level voice. 

Only then did Severus realise that he hadn't said a word, yet. And that wasn't like him. He usually felt more in charge than this. More in control. 

But everything had changed, he suddenly sensed. The Harry staring at him calmly from the bed wasn't the same shy, inexperienced young man who'd been convinced that Severus would enjoy shaming and hurting him. And it certainly wasn't the same Harry who'd barricaded his own door, so terrified had he been when he'd returned from London. No, this Harry was far more self-assured. He looked like he felt able to hold his own with Severus, whether he was a slave or not. 

Severus, in contrast, felt completely at sea. He didn't have the slightest idea how to approach Harry now, or what to say. He just knew that if he didn't handle things well, it might be quite some time before Harry wanted him again. 

And that thought was one Severus could barely tolerate. 

Harry had evidently tired of waiting for Severus to reply. "Well? Nothing to say?" 

Moving forward, Severus sat down on the edge of the bed, positioning himself next to Harry. "I wish you hadn't seen what you did," he said softly. 

The moment he heard the words emerge, he realised how they could be misconstrued. Sure enough, Harry took them in the worst possible way. 

"Of course you do," he said scornfully. "You'd rather feel free to go to that place as often as you please. Not that you _aren't_ free, of course. I'm not such an idiot that I don't realise _that_. But you aren't going to enjoy your time at home much, if you do. I think I know you well enough now to be sure you won't like living with someone who can't stand you." 

Severus swallowed. Somewhere in there was the implication that Harry could, in fact, stand him these days. He'd known that, of course, but he still liked hearing it said out loud. Or nearly said. He'd take what he could get. "I didn't mean that I wanted to keep going there--" 

"Oh, _sure_ you didn't." 

"I meant that I was sorry I'd hurt you!" said Severus, raising his voice. 

Harry laughed, the sound derision itself. "You didn't hurt me, Severus. What do you think I am, a girl?" 

Severus sighed. Of course he didn't think of Harry that way. But Harry, thanks to his oafish relatives, had a hard time believing it. Severus had thought they were past all this, but obviously Harry's ingrained attitudes would take much more time to fully vanish. 

"No, I don't think you're a girl," he said, shaking his head. "In fact, I--" 

"Good, because the idea that you could hurt me, sleeping around like that, is just . . . stupid, Severus. I wouldn't care at all, except for the fact that you said you weren't going to treat me like your slave, right? You said that you'd make me as free as you could. And if _I_ can't fool around, it hardly seems right that you can. In fact . . . " Harry had been staring straight ahead, but at that point he met Severus' eyes. His own were bright green now, and reflected less than total confidence. "Waiting around here for you to come home, after you'd been out doing God-knows-what . . . well, that would make me feel like I'm some kind of, I don't know. Woman, or something." 

"You can't be serious--" 

"Uncle Vernon used to tell awful jokes about the poor woman down the street whose husband cheated on her. Apparently she wouldn't leave him no matter how he treated her." Harry's nostrils flared. "Aunt Petunia actually praised her for that. Said it was a woman's duty to stay loyal even if her man was anything but. Just like our situation, with fucking _Podentes_ ready to skewer me if I break that contract, while you don't have to have a care in the world. And you wonder why your catting around might make me feel like that woman?" 

Severus didn't wonder any longer. So it hadn't been jealousy motivating Harry. It had been a conviction that Severus' actions said something about Harry, himself. Though of course his choice of words was hardly accurate. "I wasn't cheating on you." 

"What would you call it?" 

"Consideration." 

"Consideration!" Harry sat up straighter. "I'm just warning you, talk like that makes me think I didn't hit you hard enough!" 

Severus sighed. "The alternative was trying to persuade _you_ to have sex. And frankly, I'd already done enough of that in order to get you ready to face your birthday." 

"And the attack that never was," spat Harry. "If you ask me, your logic stinks. If I wasn't ready for sex, then the alternative was to wait! Ever heard of abstinence?" 

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I don't care for it." 

"You asked it of me, didn't you?" 

"I've asked it of myself as well. For years at a stretch, when my position as a spy meant I couldn't risk entanglements!" 

"So it shouldn't have been a problem, in that case!" 

"It was more of one than you can understand!" 

Harry crossed his arms over his bare chest, his muscles rippling as he moved. The nipple ring caught the light for a moment. "Are you going back to that, now? Well, I don't care what you say, I'm not stupid and I know it. And I know _you_ know it. I earned all those N.E.W.T.s, don't forget, and I bet I'd have got one in Potions as well and made it a clean sweep if you hadn't done everything you could think of to make me hate the subject--" 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" exclaimed Severus. He was tempted to lean over and bite Harry on the shoulder, the way he used to, when he needed to cut off a particularly misguided train of thought. Not a good way to proceed at the moment, though. He settled for leaning forward, his fists clenching with frustration. "Harry, the whole time we were readying ourselves for the invocation, all I could think of was that soon, you'd be living here as my lover. Things between us were going quite well towards the end of term, and I was looking forward to our having an active sex life. And then that was all ripped away from me when I realised what had happened to you in London. And it _wasn't_ as though I could abstain. I had to help you prepare to face your birthday. 

"And then later on, after your birthday I couldn't have what was right under my nose, what I most wanted, month after month." The frustration he'd lived with for so long was such a keen memory that Severus' fingernails cut into his palms. "I knew that if I didn't do something, it was going to drive me mad!" 

"You _were_ doing something! What was wrong with just masturbating, eh? As far as I could tell, you were doing plenty of that. Or were you doing that _and_ seeing your whores on the side, all along?" 

Ah. The heart of the matter. Harry wanted details. Severus had suspected that he would, of course. Harry's possessiveness downstairs had told him that. But Severus wasn't ready to give details. Not yet. Not until he thought they wouldn't make things worse. "If you can accept that my satisfying myself was a form of consideration for you, then why not this other?" 

Harry gave him a disgusted look, and shifted away in the bed. "None of it was for me." 

"So I should have thrown you to your back, the way you just did me?" asked Severus, his breathing harsh by then. "I wanted to. I thought about it, every day! And it was only by having some means of release that I managed to avoid doing just that! Or do you think it was so easy for me to watch you waking up hard and going off for a shower, alone? I told you, didn't I, that just the sight of you is enough to make me need you?" 

Harry appeared startled, then. Like he'd almost forgotten about that. "Yeah, well I still think you could have limited it to showers, yourself, if you were getting so desperate." 

Severus sighed. He hadn't known that Harry would feel quite this way. Well, perhaps he'd had some inkling . . . Harry had been raised in a repressive atmosphere, after all. "I think this is another case of us having been brought up with different values," he tried explaining. "Harry . . . I truly did look on the situation as though you were ill and in need of care. It would have been nothing short of brutish to press you for sex. Seeking satisfaction elsewhere seemed quite a usual solution, to me. Common in arranged marriages, in fact, when one of the parties prefers or needs to abstain." 

"Oh, is that what we have?" asked Harry, glaring again. "An arranged marriage?" 

Severus had thought of it in those terms before, but it was obvious that Harry hadn't. "Two men together is no bar to marriage in the wizarding world." 

"Thanks for explaining the bloody obvious." Harry curled a lip. "And you didn't answer my question." 

"Of course we aren't married," said Severus impatiently. "It wouldn't even be possible now, since you can't form contracts any longer." _Though I could sign for you,_ Severus suddenly found himself thinking. He tried his best to banish that thought. Harry certainly wouldn't appreciate it. "But since our bond is for life, and sexual in nature, what we do have isn't so different from a marriage, is it?" 

"Which brings us back to you being such a git about everything." Harry snorted. "Well, this has certainly been a fascinating discussion. Why don't you just get out, now? I think I've heard enough." 

"I know you believe I was wrong to go to the brothel--" 

"You think?" 

"But we weren't together yet, not really," finished Severus. Unable to help himself, he grabbed Harry's hand and twined their fingers together. Harry tugged, trying to get away, but Severus thought it a half-hearted effort, at best. 

Harry stopped fighting him and leaned back against his pillows. The book he'd been reading slid off his lap and fell to the floor with a thud. "And you think we're together, now?" 

"I think that now, perhaps we can be." 

"Oh, no we can't." Harry shook his head, though he didn't try to tug his hand free. "I told you, downstairs, I won't put up with this. You want your whores, fine. But you can't have me, as well." 

Severus felt his throat tighten. Afraid he might give himself away, he let go of Harry's hand, then. "I don't want anyone else the way I want you." 

Harry ignored that. "Suppose we start . . . er, getting together a lot. How do I know you won't go off to Hogsmeade the first time I don't feel like sex, eh? Since you feel like it would be so considerate and all." 

"I suppose you'll have to trust me." 

"Oh, like _that's_ worked out, so far." 

Severus almost ground his teeth together. "Yes, I've broken faith with you in every way imaginable, haven't I? I work you from morning until night, scrubbing floors like a house-elf! I demand sex you're not ready to give, and forbid you to see a single friend. Yes, a pity I haven't let you work a real job, or allowed you a single Knut to call your own, or permitted so much as a single hour's travel abroad--" 

"Oh, shut up," said Harry. "I didn't mean all that. I meant the sex. You said you'd bond yourself to me, Severus. And you know, I didn't give a lot of thought to what you meant by that, but I _did_ think it meant we were in this together. Which we obviously aren't, since you've been getting it on with God only knows how many others!" 

"One." 

"One what?" 

"One other. That's all. And if you must know, _he_ approached _me._ " 

"Yeah, blame him. Clever," snorted Harry. 

_Worth a try_ , Severus thought. 

"I might be wrong here," continued Harry, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "but my guess is that _he_ didn't know you were bonded--if you are--to someone else. But you knew. So either accept responsibility for your own damned decisions, or get out, like I said." 

"I wasn't blaming Renard." 

"Renard." 

"I thought you wanted details." 

"I just want to know where I stand with you, Severus," said Harry, sighing. All at once, it sounded like all the anger had drained out of him. "Look, I know I can't be with anyone but you, all right? But it's going to leave a bad taste in my mouth if I'm the only one trapped, all right?" 

_Trapped_. Now Severus was the one with a bad taste in his mouth. 

"And you said you'd meet all my needs, and this is one of them, all right? If you're having it off with _Renard_ whenever the urge strikes, then I'll feel like I'm your harem boy or something. Like I don't have any say, not about anything. And maybe I don't, being a slave. But you said it wouldn't be like that. You said you didn't want a slave." 

"I don't." Severus lifted his legs onto the bed, then, toeing off his shoes, and stretched out on his side, his head propped up on one arm. "I did bond myself to you, Harry. We are in this together. And I won't go to Renard or anyone else, again. You either believe that, or you don't." 

"At this point I don't know what to believe. I mean, since you apparently think it's so _considerate,_ in the right circumstances--" 

"It's not considerate at all if it upsets you." Severus swallowed. This was much harder than he had anticipated. "I was wrong to think that you would regard the matter the same way I do." 

Harry looked like he had another sarcastic _You think?_ in mind, but he didn't say it. He didn't say anything, but merely nodded, the movement brusque. After a moment, he rolled on his side to face Severus. "So that's it?" 

Severus wasn't sure what he meant. "Did you want something else from me?" 

"No . . . I don't know. I just . . ." Harry cleared his throat. "When I came up here everything seemed so clear. You were an arse, and I wasn't going to have anything to do with you if I could avoid it, and . . . Anyway, you were really a twit but now it seems like you weren't particularly _trying_ to be one. So, I just wondered, then, er . . . what now?" 

"What would you like?" 

Harry shrugged a little as he lay there. "I'm actually pretty knackered. It's not that late, but--" He sighed. "I was really angry. I went out to the pitch and tried to work it off, but it didn't work. Not until I had it out with you." 

_Had it out_ was one way to put it, Severus thought, images playing through his memory. Harry on top him, thrusting, his breathing a high whine of utter need in that moment before he came. Harry's hand on Severus' cock, grasping, tugging. And then afterwards, Harry laying atop him, just holding him . . . 

Severus wanted that again. Wanted all of it, and desperately, but only in a mental sense, of course. He'd come twice already today, so he was hardly ready for more sex. Not that Harry would necessarily want any. He might not be furious any longer, but neither was he terribly pleased with Severus. On the other hand, what better way to change that? Harry was young enough to recover quickly from one romp and be ready for another. 

It was probably underhanded, Severus thought, to use sex against Harry. But it was the best plan he had. Harry couldn't resent him for long, not if Severus was giving him mind-blowing orgasms several times a day . . . 

"Perhaps you'd like something in addition to frottage?" asked Severus smoothly, lowering his voice to a deep, seductive drawl. Harry liked his voice, he knew. "A long, slow blowjob, perhaps? It would be my pleasure. And yours too, I quite assure you." 

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, though he did make a gulping noise. "You're just trying to make me forget how angry I was." 

At least he'd said _was_ instead of _am._

Harry reached out a hand and tentatively trailed his fingers across Severus' chest. "Um, this is probably going to sound pretty mental, but I really am exhausted. I know, I know, I'll probably be whacking myself in the head later for turning down a blowjob, but I feel like a mop somebody wrung out, all right?" 

Severus could understand that. In fact, he was cheered to hear that Harry was only reluctantly refusing. "Perhaps you need a rubdown after your exertions on the pitch," he suggested, still wanting to do something for Harry. Still wanting some sort of connection, so he could believe that they had moved completely past their argument downstairs. 

Harry cracked a slight grin. "You did always give brilliant backrubs. Yeah, all right." Without another word, he flipped over onto his stomach and plumped his pillow a little before resting his head on it. 

Severus rubbed his hands together. It was a bit absurd for him to feel so relieved that Harry had agreed. It was only a rubdown, after all. But it was more than that, too. Harry agreeing for Severus to touch him at all . . . it meant something, considering how upset Harry had been just a short time before. 

_Damned forgiving Gryffindor nature,_ thought Severus wryly. But then, _forgiving_ was a bit much, in the circumstances. Severus still didn't think he'd done anything to regret. 

_Except for hurting Harry._

He did regret that, yes. It was an uncomfortable thought, in a way. He still thought he'd rather Harry not be quite so important to him. Life would be simpler. 

But as he'd discussed with Harry before, what was, _was._

" _Accio salveo_ ," Severus said, raising an eyebrow when a bottle came sailing out of a nearby drawer. 

Harry had the grace to flush a little. "Yeah. I . . . er, borrowed some. For, you know." 

Yes, Severus did know. He'd used this same salve to masturbate, many times. Though now, he was looking forward to less of a need for self-pleasure. 

Or whores. 

Because now Harry wouldn't have to rely only on self-pleasure, either. He was better, and now Severus could look forward to lots and lots of sex, as much as he could handle, since Harry was still young enough to want sex all the time. 

Severus practically slathered some salve onto his palms and rubbed his hands together, so excited that he could barely think straight. Definitely, he wasn't thinking when he slung one leg over Harry's thighs so he could straddle him. It was a natural position to take when planning to give a backrub. 

But of course, it was thoughtless as well, all things considered. 

Harry stiffened beneath him and spoke in a choked-sounding voice. "No. Off. I can't. I mean, I don't like that." 

Severus got off him at once and took up a position by Harry's side. 

Harry's sigh of relief was audible. "Thanks. Uh, sorry. I mean, I know you weren't going to do _that_. It's just--" 

"It's fine," interrupted Severus. "I can reach you just as well from here." 

That was a lie, of course. But what was true was that he could reach Harry well enough. Strong strokes up Harry's back, then fingers pressing against vertebrae as he worked his way back down. _Mmmmm._ Harry was toned and strong, even more so now than last spring. Must come from coaching Quidditch. Hours on a broom, day in and day out. 

Severus had suggested the coaching position because it was something Harry would like. But now, he saw that it had definite advantages even beyond the obvious fact that a contented Harry was one more likely to cross powers with him. 

"I forgot how good you are at this," sighed Harry. "Oh yeah, there. That feels great. Mmm, and there, yes." 

Severus smiled as he massaged Harry's shoulders and listened to the murmurs of contentment filling the air. It wasn't lost on him that Harry was restless now, his hips slowly moving up and down. Not quite humping the mattress, but not far off, either. 

After a while, Harry started to chuckle softly. 

"What?" 

"Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking about how things used to be." Harry stretched his neck out a little as Severus' fingers rubbed a tendon there. "You know, I was so nervous, even over a backrub. I mean, I think at times I'd have done anything to avoid it, but there was no avoiding it . . . but now, it all just seems, I don't know. Sort of silly, maybe, all that fuss." 

Severus would have kept on with the backrub, but with that, Harry was suddenly flipping onto his side to look at him. And the look on his face could only be described as hungry. And yet he didn't ask for what he obviously wanted. 

Severus could have offered again, but he wanted Harry to ask. 

"You weren't silly. Just young," he said. 

A slow smile curled Harry's lips. Just seeing it made Severus wish he hadn't wasted his passions on Renard. He'd rather be ready for another go-round with Harry. 

"Oh, come on. I know you thought I was ridiculous." 

"At times," Severus admitted, stretching out to lie facing Harry. From there it seemed natural to reach out and rub his chest the way he'd just rubbed his back. "But that was before I understood just how inexperienced you were." 

"Not so inexperienced now," said Harry. Assertively. 

Severus grinned, delighted. They had a long way to go, of course, but this kind of banter gave him worlds of hope. Before the invocation, he'd fantasised about scenes just like this. His fantasies had been filled with sex, of course. Hot, desperate, gasping sex, in every variety imaginable. But then afterwards, he'd seen scenes like this one. 

Lying in bed beside his lover, relaxed, fondling him while they teased each other with talk as well as touch . . . 

"Yes, I think you're comfortable with me, now," said Severus, still smiling. 

"You're . . . all right," said Harry. "Except, you have to mean it, what you said before. No more René." 

_Renard,_ Severus could have said, but he didn't. "No more," he said instead, meaning it in more ways than Harry could know. 

"Good. Then let's not discuss it again." 

"As you wish." 

Harry grinned too, then. "Oh, are we doing that Harry-leads thing, again? I like it." 

"I like it, too." _Especially if it gets us into bed again faster,_ thought Severus. 

"Weird though, huh?" Harry ran a hand through his own hair, mussing it. "Bossing you around, even if it's just in bed? I mean, I haven't forgotten that I _am_ your slave . . ." 

Severus wished that Harry could forget that. But perhaps that wasn't reasonable. "Mmm, and as far as _Podentes_ is concerned, your most important task is to please me. If having you lead in bed does that, then the spell can have no objection." Severus placed both his hands on Harry's shoulders, his thumbs tracing Harry's collarbones. "It's a private arrangement. And one I'm sure I'll quite enjoy." 

Harry's voice was gruff. "Yeah, me too. Uh, so . . . speaking of leading, I don't suppose you still feel like . . . er, blowing me? 'Cause I'm not as knackered as I thought, after all--" 

Harry stopped speaking then, probably because Severus was reaching down to the waistband of Harry's pyjamas. Before he could pull the fabric down over Harry's cock and balls, however, Harry was scrambling to shimmy out of the garment. 

_Definitely,_ _Harry was comfortable with him, these days._

Severus slid down the bed, still lying on his side, a little amused when Harry shifted up at the same time. "Not eager, I see." 

"Just making sure your legs don't hang off too far," quipped Harry. "Not eager at all. But what's taking you so long?" 

Severus laughed out loud, then opened his mouth wide. Harry's cock was pointed directly at him by then, but Severus didn't suck it in or attempt to swallow it whole. He merely stretched out his tongue and leaning his head forward, gave Harry's balls a long, slow lick. 

"Oh, God." Harry's voice was shaky. "That's not fair. That makes me want it worse." 

"Well, you could always tell me to stop," said Severus between licks. 

"I don't want you to stop." Harry thrust his hips forward and moaned. 

"I meant, you could tell me to move all this--" He gave a particularly wet lick. "--to your cock." 

"And you'll do as I say," panted Harry, clearly finding the idea more and more erotic. At least judging by the frantic motion of his hips, and the bead of moisture glistening at the tip of his cock, now. "Yeah, whatever I say. So suck my balls a little, yeah. Not too hard . . . aaaaahhhh . . ." 

Harry flopped to his back onto the mattress, his hands scrabbling to pull Severus' head so it would move with him. _Ouch_. Severus ended up with a slightly wrenched neck, and a couple of sore spots on his scalp. But if Harry was desperate enough to pull his hair, he wasn't going to complain. 

"Cock now. _Now_ ," said Harry, still tugging on Severus' hair. 

Severus sucked him in to the root, then, and began moving up and down, up and down. Not that he needed to. He could have remained still and let Harry do all the work. Harry's hips were pumping like he'd spill at any moment. 

But Severus didn't want to be a mouth to be fucked. _He_ wanted to pleasure Harry. 

Growling slightly, Severus put his hands on Harry's bare hips, one on either side, and pressed him down into the mattress to hold him still. The instant after he did it, it crossed his mind that the slight force might call bad memories to mind. But Harry didn't react, or at least not negatively. 

"Need--" he panted, his fingers weaving themselves through the covers. "Need--" 

Severus kept his hands in place, but lifted his mouth off Harry's cock for just a moment, just long enough to say one thing. "I know what you need." 

Harry relaxed into the mattress then, giving a jerky nod, perhaps remembering the times that Severus had pleasured him, before. Trusting Severus to see to his needs. 

Severus licked Harry, root to tip, and then settled in to enjoy the feast. Harry was a delicious mouthful, and as far as Severus was concerned, just the right size. Just the kind of cock he liked best . . . 

_Perfect._

The word lingered in his mind as he bobbed his head up and down, laving Harry with wet heat, licking this part and that, then curling his lips over his teeth in order to gently nibble at the tender vein on the underside of Harry's cock. Harry bucked again, or tried to, but Severus held him firmly down. One part of him marvelled at the trust Harry was showing him. He felt humbled by it, even though another part of his mind knew that position probably had a lot to do with it. Harry didn't want to be held down at all, not if he was face down, but he seemed able to tolerate it when he was lying on his back. 

"Oh, God," he was moaning now. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, there. _There._ Good, mmm--" 

Severus drank in the words, using them to guide him, moving his tongue and lips in ways that made Harry become increasingly incoherent. Music to his ears, especially when he opened his mouth wide again, and sucked Harry completely in. 

And then, the final reward for all his efforts. Harry jerked his hips up, screaming slightly as he began to come. 

Severus drank that in, too, sucking and nibbling on Harry all through his orgasm, which lasted surprisingly long considering that Harry had come just a short time earlier. _Pleasures of youth,_ thought Severus, a little bit jealous. But if he couldn't be that young again himself, at least he could enjoy having a lover with that kind of stamina. 

Afterwards, Severus moved up on the bed to lie beside Harry. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at him. Eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, Harry was still panting a bit. He looked almost drunk on pleasure, and when he opened his eyes, they were glazed clear over. 

And then he smiled, a slow expression of utter languor, his handsome features becoming something truly heart-stopping. 

Severus' heart didn't stop, of course. Not even for an instant. But it did seem to thud a bit harder, for a moment, there. 

He didn't think about it very often, but he knew in that moment that he more than cared about Harry. He knew that he loved him. 

It made him feel a bit annoyed, actually. This was not how he'd envisioned their relationship back before the invocation, at all. He'd thought he would always have the upper hand. But as he'd lectured himself earlier, what was, _was,_ so Severus tried not to let it bother him. Things could be worse, after all. At least Harry couldn't leave him, the way any other good-looking young man would. 

Actually, any other good-looking young man wouldn't give _him_ a second glance in the first place. Not unless he was paying. 

Suddenly, his morning and afternoon with Renard seemed more tawdry than enjoyable. 

"Brilliant," Harry softly whispered, reaching out a hand to stroke Severus' cheek. "Mmm. I don't even have words. But you're definitely forgiven. As long as you don't, you know, again." 

The reminder almost ruined the moment for Severus. "I thought we weren't going to discuss that any further," he said, his voice gruff as he moved away from Harry's questing fingers. 

Not to be denied, Harry scooted forward and touched Severus again. He seemed in good spirits. But then, he should be. 

"I want to touch you. So you're to let me, eh?" 

Severus sensed then that Harry was still relishing being in charge. At least he seemed to have dropped the issue of the brothel. So that was well and good. 

"You're quite welcome to touch me." 

"Mmm, I guess so," said Harry, smiling again. "Here?" He stroked downwards, over Severus' chin and down his neck. 

"Anywhere you like." 

Harry's voice was throaty as he unbuttoned Severus' pyjama top. "Funny, you usually only wear bottoms to bed. Like me." 

"Planning to put your own back on, then?" 

Harry chuckled. "Nah. I kind of like being naked with you, I think. Feels . . . I don't know. Kind of naughty, I guess, but I figure I'm all grown up and allowed to be naughty if I like." 

"Allowed to be as naughty as you like," corrected Severus, liking the conversation. He didn't think he'd ever slept with anyone who would use a word like _naughty_ , but coming from Harry it was . . . charming, in some strange way. 

"I like this," said Harry, suddenly darting his hand into Severus' pyjama bottoms and grasping hold of his cock. He moved his hand up and down on it, clearly trying to arouse Severus. Then he stilled. "No? Not in the mood?" 

"The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." 

Harry's smile fell. "Oh. Really?" 

"We aren't all teenagers." 

"I'm not a teenager!" 

"Wait until you're twenty to make such claims," Severus dryly advised. 

"Yeah, all right." Harry yawned. "Well, I'm pretty beat by now, anyway. 'Night." 

With that, he reached over Severus to grab his wand from the night table and spell off all the lights. Then he rolled to face away from Severus, but it clearly wasn't any sort of rejection, since he proceeded to scootch backwards until his back was resting against Severus' chest. 

It was all Severus could wish for. A naked Harry, pressed up against him, replete with recent pleasure, accepting both Severus and his own place in Severus' life. Finally at ease, both sexually and in every other way. 

For all that though, Severus was wary of crossing any line that might set them back. "Shall I go downstairs, then?" he whispered in the darkness. "You mentioned wanting to sleep alone?" 

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, yawning. "I was just angry. You stay here. It's your bed, too, you know. Oh, but I meant to tell you it's been great to have some space I can treat as my own, you know, even if it really isn't. But I want you here when I wake up . . . 'Night, then." 

Just moments later, Harry was fast asleep. And evidently more exhausted than usual, judging by the slight snoring noises he began to make. 

Laughing softly, Severus kissed the top of Harry's head and moved him into a more comfortable position, Harry's head cradled on his shoulder. 

And then he, too, fell into a deep, satisfying sleep. 

  
  
  
  



	29. Chapter 29

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, October 17, 1998 ----8:15 a.m.**

Harry blinked as he woke up. Something was different this morning, and it wasn't just that he was upstairs. There was a hand on his cock, and it wasn't his own. 

Actually, he'd woken up to find Severus' hand on him a few times before, earlier this fall, but only when Severus was still asleep. On those previous occasions, Severus' fingers might be squeezing him lightly, but they weren't stroking him firmly up and down, deliberately teasing him. And the minute Harry would jostle the man next to him, Severus would wake up and move his hand away. He didn't quite apologise, but it was clear that he knew Harry wasn't really ready for that. 

This morning, things were entirely different. Severus was clearly wide awake, and was trying to wake Harry up in the most pleasurable way possible. Or, not _the_ most pleasurable way, considering the previous night's blowjob. 

Harry yawned, and made a show of batting the hand away, just to see what Severus would do. "Tired." 

The hand came back as though attached to an invisible string, and started right in on him again. 

"Severus, 'm tired!" 

Severus seemed to hesitate, then, which made Harry feel a bit bad. He flipped over to face Severus, and grinned. "Gotcha." 

The other man looked him over, his gaze seemingly drawn to the nipple ring Harry wore. 

Harry was used to it, now. In fact, he hardly ever noticed it, not even in the shower when he was soaping himself all over. For a long time he'd tried not to think about it. And then one day, he'd realised that he wasn't trying any longer. The nipple ring just seemed like part of him now, and if it marked him as belonging to Severus . . . well, he did belong to Severus. It couldn't be undone. 

"I liked what you were doing," said Harry, thinking it a bit odd he'd have to say so. But Severus was still doing nothing but stare at him. Harry wanted that hand back. 

Then again, if he was in charge, he didn't need to wait and hope, or drop hints, did he? 

"Touch me again," he said, surprised at how husky his own voice sounded. 

"Here?" Severus' thumb and forefinger began to gently toy with the nipple ring. 

Harry couldn't help but gasp. He'd never thought his nipples to be a particularly sensitive area, but now, his left nipple sort of tingled when Severus tugged on the ring through it. "Oh, God. That's good . . ." 

A slow smile curled the other man's lips, and that was when Harry remembered. Severus had once said that his pierced nipple might become sensitive. _Exquisitely sensitive . . ._

"Yeah, that's about right," gasped Harry, getting a little bit lost in the sensation. It didn't exactly shoot right down to his cock, but there was definitely some connection there. 

"Hmm?" 

Instead of answering, Harry wriggled forward and started kissing Severus. Deeply, mouth opened wide, his arms coming around to clutch the other man. Kissing him like he hadn't in a long, long time. Like it was the invocation all over again. 

Harry groaned. The kissing was good. Beyond good. Severus' thumb was still massaging his nipple, and between that and the sensation of their tongues mating, now there _was_ a feeling shooting straight down into his cock. He'd been hard a few moments earlier, when Severus was touching him there, but now he was aching with it, his cock jutting straight out from his body to poke against Severus as Harry thrust and thrust . . . 

There was something exhilarating, Harry thought, about waking up completely naked, ready for sex, no troublesome clothes in the way . . . 

"You're wearing too much," he gasped, reaching out a hand to snatch at Severus' pants. 

All told, the other man wasn't wearing much at all. Sometime during the night, or maybe before he'd got into bed with Harry, Severus had stripped down to nothing _but_ his silk boxers, but suddenly it seemed like he was all covered up. Harry wanted all of him, his whole body, naked just like he was. 

All at once, he wanted that so badly that he felt frantic with it. Maybe it was a sensation that he'd waited for this for so long. Too long. Why had he gone weeks masturbating alone in the shower when he could have been with Severus? The way Severus touched him--it was loads better than his own hand. 

Harry grabbed the waistband of Severus' pants and yanked. Hard. 

"Tearing off my clothes, now?" 

"Yeah," said Harry, almost grunting. The garment didn't tear, though. "Damn." 

Severus' voice was deeply amused. Rich with it. "Ah. Well, they're specially made, as you know. Quality--" 

"Get them off!" 

"Impatient, are we?" 

Harry sensed that he was being teased, but he was in no mood for it. His cock was too hard, his need too great. Yanking himself closer to the night table, he fumbled for his wand, intending to banish Severus' pants, if that was what it took. Yeah, probably _that_ spell would work just fine. He couldn't imagine Severus objecting to it, not really. 

Severus made a _tsking_ noise. "So impatient. If you want my cock so much, why don't you just reach inside?" 

Harry probably would have felt like an idiot then, except he had no time for feeling anything except the long, hard length that seemed to spring into his hand the moment he dove his fingers into Severus' pants. 

"So good . . ." 

"Good to hear." This time, it was Severus who started the kissing. 

Harry's head began to spin. It was too much. Hot mouths locked together, Severus' hand on his cock now, his own hand rubbing up and down that large shaft he'd fantasised about, his nipple still tingling . . . 

He kissed Severus harder as he began to come and come and come. 

"Mmm," murmured Severus against his lips. "Yes. Delicious." 

Harry certainly thought so. Like waking up naked, there was some kind of freedom here, he dazedly thought as his orgasm ebbed to a halt. Knowing that he could do this anytime he liked, have sex as much as he pleased, ask for blowjobs, frottage, whatever he wanted . . . 

It seemed almost unreal to him. Like he'd been let loose in Honeydukes. Except, this was fifty times better than sweets could ever be. And actually, it was more like he was going to live in Honeydukes from now on . . . 

Harry flopped to his back afterwards, breathing hard. "Oh. Wow. Yeah. That was good." 

"Was it." 

Only then did Harry realise that he'd forgotten about Severus. Well, not _about_ him, certainly, but he'd been so caught up in his own pleasure that he'd thought of nothing else. And that wasn't any sort of way to treat Severus, who'd always been pretty generous when it came to giving pleasure. "Oh. Sorry. Er . . ." He took a stab in the dark. "Frottage, you think?" 

The word still tasted exciting and exotic to him. 

Severus' shoulders were tense even as he shrugged. "You decide." 

Later, Harry would think back on that and appreciate it as Severus' way of saying that he wasn't about to pressure Harry. At the time, though, he found it vaguely frustrating. So much simpler to just have Severus say what he wanted! 

But then again, maybe what Severus wanted most was for Harry to do as he pleased. 

Harry smiled. He knew what he felt like doing. "You're still wearing too much." 

Severus fairly scrambled out of his pants, that time. 

The lubricant he'd used on himself, Harry thought, reaching for it. "On your back." 

Severus sucked in a breath as he rolled over, his hips thrusting a few times in anticipation. 

"Impatient, are we?" 

That got Harry a glare. Harry just laughed. Then he took a good, long look at Severus. It seemed like he'd spent so long trying not to see that now it was time he really enjoyed it. And there was certainly plenty of Severus to look at. His balls and cock weren't exactly massive, but they were very large. Satisfyingly large, Harry thought, his fingers trailing over the sparse hairs scattered across Severus' balls. He tugged on one or two hairs, gently. 

Severus curled his hands into the bedcovers and all but whined. 

"Oh, like that, do you?" Harry grinned, ghosting his hand all across Severus' cock and balls. "You didn't mention that when you were giving me that hand-job lesson in the bath, did you?" 

"Harry--" 

"You _are_ impatient." 

"I've been waiting since June, you impertinent little--" 

_No, you haven't_ , Harry thought, flashes of their argument darting around inside his head. But he didn't want to think about that. They'd agreed to put it behind them. And as long as Severus was bloody well _Harry's_ , now, and didn't forget it . . . yeah. 

"Waiting for this?" asked Harry, flicking his thumb across the head of Severus' cock. "Or this?" He palmed his whole cock then, stroking it hand over hand. 

Severus arched his back, a hissing noise rushing through his clenched teeth. 

Harry grinned, feeling wicked. Or naughty again, perhaps. Sitting here in the nude, playing with Severus' cock . . . he'd never really known that he could _revel_ in it, like this. It was hard to believe that once he'd dreaded this. It was such great fun! Like soaring out over the pitch, going as fast as he liked, feeling the wind rushing through his hair. 

Harry decided it was time for lubricant. A good slathering of it. Goo all over the bed, but who cared? Harry could do as he pleased. Nobody here to object if he made a mess of everything . . . 

_He'd never felt so free,_ he abruptly realised. 

Just because he could, he poured even more salve out into his cupped hand, and rubbed it all over Severus' chest, tweaking _his_ nipples the way he'd played with Harry's, while his free hand continued to work the man's cock. Up and down, nice firm strokes, his index finger caressing the sensitive cord on the underside with every stroke. 

Severus was clearly straining towards his climax, his muscles tensed, his hips jutting up to thrust his cock in tempo to Harry's strokes, but for all that, he was far too quiet. 

"Moan," said Harry, tossing the lubricant aside to stretch out beside Severus. One arm pulling him onto his side to face him, the other wrapped around his cock, Harry licked Severus' neck from collarbone to earlobe. "Hmm? Let me hear you. I want to hear you." 

"I-- I--" Whatever Severus had been going to say dissolved into some kind of low growling noise. But the sound of _that_ was something else again. It was primal, coming up from his gut, and practically screamed sex. 

Harry felt his own cock, so recently satisfied, stir to life again. And then he was the one talking. Babbling, almost. "Want you. Want, yeah, again--" 

"Then have me," rasped Severus, rolling onto his back again and this time pulling Harry along until Harry was atop him, thrusting. 

_Have me._ It was so simple, in the end, everything unfolding into a blend of sighs and sweat and sensation. Cock slowly sliding against cock, hands everywhere, then grasping hips to thrust harder, then _harder . . ._

It seemed to Harry that he lost himself inside the experience. Like he wasn't a separate person any longer; he was part of something new, something straining toward release, climbing higher and higher, until he hit some high peak of perfection and shattered. 

Harry clutched at Severus, fingernails digging into the man's shoulders as he felt pulses of pleasure beginning to gather in his balls and spurt out through the end of his cock. He wasn't sure if he screamed or gasped or moaned or called Severus' name. Or all of it. He was only sure of one thing, and it was that sex with Severus was brilliant. 

"Oh, God, I did it again, didn't I?" he blurted afterwards, almost mortified. "I can't seem to stop myself. I mean, I know it's your turn, but--" 

Severus nudged Harry to the side, then pushed up on an elbow. "I take it you didn't notice." 

Harry's gaze darted down to Severus' hips. The man's cock was going limp now, and his thighs were spattered with semen. His own, or Harry's . . . impossible to tell. 

"Oh, you mean you--" Harry cleared his throat. "I probably should have known at the time, you think?" 

"There you go again, worrying about what you _should_ do in bed," chided Severus, sitting up completely. Reaching for his wand, he cast a cleaning spell and then pulled the covers over them both, gathering Harry into a loose embrace, the two of them lying face to face. "Just enjoy it." 

"Oh, I did, I did." Harry felt so relaxed he wondered if his bones had gone soft. "Mmm. That was _so_ good." 

"Mmm," echoed Severus. All of a sudden his voice sounded distant. Sleepy. 

Harry was a little peckish, but he decided that food could wait. It was Sunday, anyway. No reason why they couldn't loll about in bed as long as they pleased, and stuff themselves when they felt like it, and-- 

Life looked good, Harry thought. Really good. 

Closing his eyes, he turned around and snuggled back against Severus. 

  
  
  
  



	30. Chapter 30

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, October 19, 1998 ----7:38 p.m.**

Brewing was always a calming sort of activity for Severus, as long as he was left alone to work in peace. He usually enjoyed having total silence in which to observe the subtle interplay of one ingredient with another. A quiet laboratory was a welcome change, after an entire day of rebuking students for chattering steadily away. 

This evening, however, he realised he was humming as he stirred. Three times clockwise, five times anti-clockwise, over and over, and he was humming a little tune to match the strokes. 

Well, why not? If any man had reason to feel content, Severus did. Now that Harry was over his reservations about sex, he couldn't get enough. He wanted it almost constantly, it seemed. 

Not that Severus was complaining, certainly. In fact, he'd rarely had so little cause for complaint. All in all, life was good. 

How could it not be? He'd spent his entire Sunday wallowing in decadent pleasures. After their morning romp--and what a romp it had been!--they'd napped for a while, spooned together. Then breakfast in bed, waffles with fresh strawberries doused in cream, and a bottle of very nice champagne. Harry had ordered all that, but when Severus tried to come to the upstairs table to eat, he'd been firmly shooed back to bed, where they'd fed each other strawberries and toasted the future. 

A future that suddenly looked bright to Severus. And when had he ever felt that way, before? But how could he feel otherwise when Harry had proceeded to smear dollops of syrup across Severus' lips, only to kiss it off? And that was only the beginning. Harry had got more and more adventurous with the syrup as the meal went on. He'd started with Severus' chest. True, Harry had been slightly tentative at first, as if not sure that Severus would appreciate being made a snack, as it were, but when Severus laughed in pure enjoyment, Harry had shoved him onto his back and begun in earnest. 

Syrup on his nipples, then his abdomen, Harry licking it off drop by drop as Severus moaned with pleasure. Harry blazed a trail down, steadily working his way toward Severus' cock. 

_No,_ Severus thought, wanting what seemed to be coming, yet afraid to believe it could be true. _He won't. He's not going to. He's not ready for that. He's just teasing me, and doing a damned fine job of it, at that--_

But the teasing was so very delicious that Severus couldn't even resent it. 

Or maybe he could have, if he'd been left hard and aching. But he hadn't been. 

Harry's hand on the root of his cock, holding it at a steady vertical, and then a drop of syrup on the tip. And then a long dribble, strawberry flavour oozing down on all sides. Severus gasped, pushing up on his elbows to see what would surely follow, but Harry placed a palm flat on his sticky chest and shoved him straight back down. 

"I don't think I can keep going, not if you're planning to watch." 

If that was the way Harry wanted it, fine. Severus went so far as to close his eyes and fling an arm up to cover them, which made Harry giggle. 

Severus never would have thought that a giggle could be so erotic, but that one was, because it proved that what Severus had been waiting for, for so long, had finally come true. Harry was at ease with him. Utterly at ease. Sexually, and in other ways as well. He could be himself. He could be silly, even, and not worry that Severus might tear him apart with scornful words. 

For a moment more, nothing happened. The small span of time was almost torture, Severus still wondering if Harry really _would_ , or if he'd back out at the last instant. 

Then a warm, wet tongue began lapping at him, caressing the head of his cock, bared by the force of his erection. For a while, that was all Harry did: just lick and lick and lick. Like Severus was his lollipop. 

Like he was trying to make Severus come from licks alone. 

It wasn't like any blowjob Severus had had before. Each time Harry's warm tongue left a wet trail on his cock, the air in the dungeons would start to cool the streak of moisture. But then Harry would lick him again. Hot, cold, hot, cold . . . 

It was maddening. Beyond maddening. 

"Suck me in," Severus finally groaned, moving his arms off his eyes. He had to see, had to know why Harry wasn't doing that already. Licking was all well and good to start with, but a man needed more! 

He pushed up on his elbows, just slightly. 

_Oh, Merlin._ That might have been a mistake. Harry looked . . . how to describe it? _Like every randy fantasy you've ever harboured,_ he decided. Lips moist like he'd just licked them, his brilliant green eyes intent as they stared down at Severus' cock, one hand still holding it upright, but the other one shoved suspiciously beneath his own body as he lay between Severus' spread legs. 

Harry, so turned on by Severus' cock that he was touching himself. 

If Severus had been twenty years younger, he might have come from the sight alone. As it was, he made a kind of strangled noise and pumped his hips, desperate. 

A smile curled Harry's lips when he glanced up. "No watching, eh? Or I won't." 

Severus knew better than to take the threat seriously. The truth was there in Harry's eyes, in every line of his body as he lay just inches from Severus' hard cock. Harry wanted to do more than lick him. A lot more. He'd just never done it before, and he was a little slow about getting to the point. 

_He'd never done this before. With anyone._

A wave of strong feeling suddenly washed through Severus. He wasn't sure what to call it. _Fondness, affection, devotion?_ He just knew that Harry had never shared himself this way before. Had never looked at anyone the way he was looking down at Severus. He was Severus' alone. 

That probably had a greater impact on him than it should have; Severus knew he wasn't by nature a sentimental man. With Harry, though, he was having to guard against sentimental reactions more and more often. 

At any rate, the warm, sweet feeling gathering inside him wouldn't let him stay sitting up to watch, much as he longed to. No, if Harry would prefer that Severus only _feel_ , then the matter was settled. 

Severus slid down onto his back again, and wriggled his hips. "No watching, I promise." 

Harry stroked Severus' cock up and down as he spoke. "Mmm. I think I like promises. You've been really good about yours. I mean, about all the ones you made but couldn't really make. You probably deserve some kind of reward . . ." 

Now that was definitely a tease. 

"Some fresh bobotubers, how about that?" 

"Harry . . ." 

Amazing how rough his voice could become, when he wanted something badly enough. 

Severus had a feeling that Harry might have prattled on for a good while longer. His tone certainly suggested that he was enjoying watching Severus writhe and moan. But his own desires were obviously too strong to be put off any longer. 

"Mmmm," Harry said again, except that time, it wasn't a prelude to speech. That time, it was pure enjoyment, for Harry was sliding his lips down over the tip of Severus' cock, taking him into the warm cavern of his mouth. 

Severus exhaled a long breath, one he hadn't known he was holding. The moist heat was just what he wanted, and when Harry began bobbing his head up and down, caressing Severus' cock with his lips and tongue, adding friction and motion and _pressure_ to the mix, Severus bucked upwards, unable to control himself. 

Bad move, that. Harry ended up gagging. 

"Blech," he said, probably not realising how it came out sounding to Severus. "No, better not." 

"No more?" asked Severus before he could stop the words. 

"No, I meant, you hold still," said Harry, rising up enough so that he could look down into Severus' face. "Let me, all right? Explore. Figure it out." 

That sounded a capital idea to Severus. "I'll be good." 

Harry chuckled. "If you could see yourself, Severus." 

"Ah. Well, I'm rarely in such a good mood, I suppose." 

"Long as I know what it takes to keep your temper sweet," quipped Harry, sinking back down to start again. 

Severus kept to his word and held still this time as Harry sucked him in and began bobbing his head. It was definitely the most shallow blowjob he'd ever had. He wanted to thrust up, to feel the length of his whole cock inside Harry's warm, eager mouth. But if Harry gagged again, he might not want to continue. 

Severus wasn't used to a lover who was this inexperienced, but he found he didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, he liked it. Harry would learn to do this with him. Only with him. 

Granted, the end of the blowjob could have been better. Severus had wondered if Harry would swallow. He didn't. He didn't even let Severus climax inside his mouth. At the last second, he yanked his face away and finished Severus off using his hand. 

Severus had a feeling that Harry's other hand was still wrapped around his own cock. Which made up for the not swallowing, he thought, deciding not to mention it. It hadn't been a perfect blowjob, but the next one would be better, he felt sure. 

The important thing was something that went beyond technique. Harry had blown him of his own free will. Had licked and sucked him for no other reason than because he wanted to. 

_Because he wanted Severus._

Not because he had to. Not because he was a slave. Not because Severus had commanded him, or even suggested it. No, Harry had done it because they were lovers. 

If Severus could have melted, he would have. 

"My turn," said Harry in a low voice as he slid his body up to lie on top of Severus. 

"You didn't finish yourself off?" 

How a grin could be both impish and worldly-wise was a good question, Severus thought, but Harry's was. "Now why would I do that, when I have you?" 

With that, Harry began grinding their hips together. 

The tray clattered to the stone floor, no doubt spilling what remained of their breakfast, but Harry didn't seem to care. Didn't change tempo, though he did grab Severus' hands in his own and pull them up to lean on them. 

_Sweet Merlin._ Severus wished he hadn't come so recently, then. He wasn't used to this, to someone who wanted him, really wanted him, and was eager to take what he wanted. 

_Eager,_ perhaps, wasn't even an apt word. Severus ended up coming three times over the course of Sunday morning and afternoon, more than he could remember since he'd been a teenager, himself. Harry had actually had _five_ orgasms. 

_Ah, the pleasures of youth,_ Severus thought now, still humming as he moved his stirring stick. But those pleasures were his to enjoy, too, since Harry was his. In every way, now. 

Well, not quite every way. Harry wasn't ready for some things. He didn't like to be on the bottom, not even figuratively. But that would come when Harry was ready. 

And in the meantime, Severus was as happy as a champion brewer with a shiny new cauldron. It didn't even matter to him that Harry sometimes came out with statements that in any other context would be frankly off-putting. 

Take the syrup, for example. After their frottage, when Harry had been lying limply atop him, playing with a strand of Severus' hair, he'd said he'd used it because he'd been afraid that Severus' bare cock might taste absolutely awful. 

Not exactly seductive, a remark like that. And yet, that Harry felt free to say it, that he felt free to say anything . . . there was value in that. Besides . . . 

"And so?" 

"Oh." Harry had blushed, which he hadn't done in a long time. "I liked it. I mean, once the syrup was all gone, I kept on, didn't I?" 

So he had. 

"But we're sticky again, somehow," Harry had continued. "Let's have a bath, you think?" 

They hadn't bathed together since the invocation. That Harry would suggest it now struck Severus as significant. It was like he'd moved beyond regretting that he'd had to become a slave. Like he was at peace. At ease, just like with the sex. 

And that was an aphrodisiac in of itself, even though both of them were already so spent that they did little in the bath but lazily wash each other as they talked and laughed. 

On Monday they'd both had to get up and go to work, but for all that, they'd managed very satisfactory sex in the morning and evening both. Late into the evening, Harry starting to understand that anticipation could be almost as pleasurable as culmination. Starting to learn the fine art of teasing, after all. 

He'd used that knowledge to stunning effect this very morning, actually making Severus whimper before he'd stopped that licking--ever more sensuous as he gained experience--and started using both his hands, even while he whispered, "Let's see if I can make you beg . . ." 

He had made Severus beg. And Severus had never begged before. Not for release. Or at least, not out loud. 

What Harry offered was well worth begging for, though. No doubt about it. _That_ time, he'd provided a much more satisfactory finish to the blowjob, staying with it until the very end. Severus came, spurting into Harry's warm mouth, which kept pleasuring him all through his climax. 

And if Harry hadn't been able to swallow and had instead made a strange motion with his hand as he exited the room, obviously intending to get to the bathroom to spit the semen out . . . well, he probably just needed a bit more experience. Or perhaps he just needed to learn one of the discreet charms available for such situations. 

He didn't say anything about the matter to Harry, though. He didn't think he would need to, either. Harry needed just what he'd said earlier: the opportunity to explore. To figure things out. Besides, Severus had better things to do when Harry came back a few moments later, his green eyes blazing. _Much_ better things. 

"I want you to suck me," Harry had said, his voice low and husky. "A long, hot, wet blowjob. The best you have, and I don't particularly care if we're both late to class . . ." 

They weren't late, of course. Severus had known they wouldn't be. But they did miss breakfast in the Great Hall and had to grab a quick bite from the table in their rooms. Harry didn't even have time to eat with Severus, since he had much farther to walk. He'd stuffed a fried egg between a couple of slices of toast and started munching as he walked. He'd given Severus a little wave as he left the room, mouth already full. 

Once, Harry would have been humiliated that he and Severus had missed breakfast on the same day. The implications would have horrified him, no matter that it was absurd to think anyone would draw any sort of conclusion from such scant evidence. Now, he seemed unconcerned about the entire matter. 

But then again, once not so long ago, Severus would have been thinking caustic thoughts about Harry stuffing food in his mouth as he walked along the corridors where students and professors alike could see him. Now, it only meant that they'd stayed too long in bed. 

So of course he was humming as he stirred his potion! Why wouldn't he? Life with Harry was turning out to be wonderful. 

Five strokes clockwise, three strokes anti-clockwise, over and over again. Usually Severus was in a worse mood when he made this particular potion. He resented doing anything for Lupin. 

But Harry had specifically asked, months ago, that Severus keep making the Wolfsbane. Severus had done it, both for Albus and to keep faith with Harry, but he'd still resented the long hours put into a potion that would make Lupin's life easier. 

This time, though, he found that he couldn't quite muster as much resentment over the matter as he usually did. Harry would make it worth his while. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, October 19, 1998 ---- 8:12 p.m.**

"It's simple when you get used to it," said Harry, hovering on his broom just a few feet off the ground. The Slytherin Chasers listened attentively, gazes trained on him. 

Well, about time. Harry hadn't wanted to complain to Severus, but the Slytherin team had been his biggest challenge as Quidditch coach. Harry figured it had a lot to do with past history. All those Gryffindor wins. Since there weren't any first-years on the team, everyone on it had attended Hogwarts during Harry's time there. He had a feeling that his name had come up in the Slytherin common room, after matches. Not to mention that some of these students were probably still friends with Malfoy. 

All of which meant that the players had been uncooperative, and even hostile at first. Things were finally getting better now, though. The Slytherins still didn't like him much, but they did respect him. Or rather, his authority. A little while back, Harry had started taking Severus at his word, and had started taking points. 

Sometimes, lots of points. 

And he wasn't shy about assigning detention, either. 

The Slytherins had got the point, and now when he talked, they listened. Courteously, since Harry had made it clear that he wasn't about to stand for glares, either. 

It probably didn't hurt that Slytherin had lost the two practice matches he'd set them. First to Ravenclaw, and then to Hufflepuff. 

"And you're going to keep losing," Harry had said to them at their next practice, his voice cold, "if you don't start trying to learn from me instead of resent me. The other houses have the sense to see that I can help them improve. They're going to be leagues ahead of you soon if you don't take your heads out of your arses!" 

All right, so probably a staff member shouldn't say _arses_ in front of students. But maybe a coach had more leeway. At any rate, when one of the Slytherins had muttered something under his breath, Harry had decided they needed even more plain speaking. "Five points," he'd snapped, turning his broom toward the offending student. "What's wrong with you lot? I thought you were Slytherins! You should be thinking strategically! Instead, you're letting personal feelings keep you from taking advantage of what I have to offer!" 

He'd dismissed practice early, saying that he had better things to do than teach students who didn't care to learn. 

Ever since that night, the Slytherin team had been much more willing to cooperate with him. 

"You roll your broom just at the end of your acceleration, and it'll give you a tiny additional burst of speed. Might be that burst that makes the difference in a crucial moment." He turned and flew up a few more feet, then demonstrated the move once more. "Practice that for a bit, but don't forget, it won't work unless you're flying flat-out when you try the roll." 

The Chasers started trying the move, but they didn't really make much progress until Harry suggested that they race. _Slytherins._ Best way to motivate them--ha, short of accusing them of not living up to their house name--was to make everything into a competition, Harry had found. 

Hmm. He actually kind of wondered if the same idea might apply to Severus in bed. Not that the man needed any motivation, certainly. He was a wonderful lover, Harry was finding. Actually, he'd known for a long time that Severus would be. But knowing that first-hand . . . it was a little bit like Christmas had come early. 

But how _would_ Severus react if Harry were to challenge him to some sort of grown-up game? Like, which one of them could last longest during a blowjob, or-- no, no, not that. Harry didn't have a chance of winning at _that._

Well, maybe he'd think of something later if he needed to spice up their sex life. Though that was hard to imagine, wasn't it? Severus was _always_ ready for sex. Even when he'd just come and obviously needed time to recover, he was still ready to give sex to Harry. All he wanted-- 

"Er . . . Coach Potter?" 

God, he'd done it again. Ever since the weekend, Harry had been drifting off into sex fantasies at the least provocation. Or at no provocation, really. Severus was just so _good_ that he couldn't help it. 

"Yes, Miss Tiddleywell?" He looked up to see the Slytherins' reserve Seeker waiting for his attention. 

"I have a new dive I wanted to show you." 

Harry gestured for her to explain it, but after she did, he decided a cushioning charm would be a good idea. Just in case. "There," he said, pointing at the area where he'd cast it. "Stay over that patch of grass." 

Tara Tiddleywell rolled her eyes. "I've done it a thousand times, sir. I'm not going to crash." 

"Of course not. But, you know." Harry leaned close, his voice a little conspiratorial. "I can't watch otherwise. It sounds too scary." 

"But you were a Gryffindor!" 

Interesting choice of tense, Harry thought. "Oh, yeah. But that just means I'd probably do the dive myself without thinking twice. All right?" 

Tara chuckled a little. "You go over there for the best view, though. I was hoping you could give me some pointers on how to make the dive a little more straight. I think I'm going at a slight angle, see." 

Harry backed off until he was a good distance away, then looked high into the sky, where Tara was hovering, and waved for her to begin. 

She turned on her broom and zoomed toward the ground, rotating quickly as she descended. The rotation helped her speed up. Harry had known it would, of course, but Tara's new trick was to slide her legs out and align her body with the broom as she spun. 

She picked up more speed that way. A lot more. 

Harry had never seen quite this kind of dive before. Impressed, he glanced about to see if Tara's team mates were watching the new manoeuvre. 

They weren't. Still intent on their own drills and exercises, they were working on the tasks Harry had set them. Actually, a good number of them were watching Harry, which the Slytherins tended to do a lot. More than the other teams, certainly. They seemed to feel a need to keep track of where he was. Harry didn't like it, but he was getting used to it. 

Good thing he'd looked around for an instant, though, because at that moment Harry saw one of the Beaters give a Bludger a hell of a whack. Normally no problem, but his aim was off. The Bludger started careening straight towards the stretch of grass Harry had charmed to cushion Tara in case she fell. 

Harry's spell had been designed to absorb the impact of one good crash, and if the Bludger hit the grass, that would certainly count. 

Even worse, the waves of magic that a collision would set off would almost certainly disrupt Tara's concentration. The Bludger hitting the grass was likely to _make_ her crash. 

Cursing a little, Harry leaned low over his broom and flew as fast as he could, one hand reaching back to grab the bat he usually kept with him while he was coaching. You never could tell when you'd need to whack a Bludger out of your way . . . particularly when flying alongside Slytherins. 

He wasn't going to make it in time; he could tell. 

He flew faster, pushing at the limits of his magic. After seven years of flying every chance he got, he knew just where those limits were. He could go so fast, but no faster. 

Except, this time, when he really pushed, he broke through his usual limits, his broom _leaping_ forward at high speed, so fast that the ground below him became a blur. 

He was flying faster than he ever had, yet his aim was true when he zoomed past the Bludger and knocked it to the far edge of the pitch. 

Tara pulled up sharply, her broom making a screeching sound as she came to a sudden halt and landed beside Harry, who was standing to the side of the charmed ground, breathing hard. 

"Great bloody Merlin, did you see that?" Harry heard someone shout, the voice sounding very far away. That was just his shock getting in the way, though. When he turned his head, Gaius Galsworthy was hovering nearby, just off the ground. And he was practically slack-jawed. 

And no wonder. Harry wasn't sure how fast he'd flown; he only knew that it was a lot faster--a _lot_ \--than he'd ever dreamed of going. 

Still, letting on that he was as surprised as the students probably wasn't a good move. Blinking, he recovered enough presence of mind to smirk, just a little. He wouldn't have done it with any other house, but Slytherins respected confidence. Over-confidence, even. "You see what you can accomplish with practice," he said, casually. 

The whole team was around him, by then. Whispering, murmuring, voices alternately awed and envious. Most of them had seen, it seemed, and those who hadn't had already heard. 

"You might have shown us a thing like that earlier," said Leonard Brimstone, glaring. "Or do you only demonstrate things like that for the other houses?" 

"Don't be daft. I wouldn't have done it at all if I hadn't thought I needed to get that Bludger out of Miss Tiddleywell's way." Harry shrugged as though he'd given the matter a lot of thought. "There's a difference between teaching and showing off, after all." 

"Could you do that when you were at school, here?" A seventh-year asked that, his voice laced with suspicion. 

"No. I practiced all summer to get that good." 

Harry held up a hand when it looked as though the questions would never end. Then he drew his wand. " _Tempus._ Right. It's gone half-eight already, so that's it for tonight. Good night, then." 

They grumbled, something about how he probably let the Gryffindors have the pitch for as late as they liked. Which wasn't true, but Harry didn't need to defend himself. Let them say what they liked. He didn't care. 

All he really cared about now was getting home to Severus to share this great news. It was starting, finally. Their powers were beginning to cross. He probably should have expected it, Harry decided as he flew to the castle doors, his speed this time fast but not unreal. He was happy, and Severus was happy, and the sex was incredible. So of course their powers were going to start crossing. 

Harry jumped off his broom and rubbed his hands together as he hurried down to the dungeons.  
  
  
  



	31. Chapter 31

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, October 19, 1998 ---- 8:37 p.m.**

"Severus!" called Harry as he rushed through the door connecting the two parts of their quarters. "Severus!" 

No answer, but that wasn't so hard to understand, since Harry could hear the sound of the shower running. 

So excited he could hardly bear it, Harry rushed headlong toward the bathroom, ripping off his Quidditch coaching robe as he went. He threw it toward the bed and barely registered that he'd missed. Then he was dashing through the bathroom door, sure that he'd burst if he didn't tell Severus the good news right this instant. 

He wanted to celebrate, to order gallons of champagne, to throw himself at Severus and kiss him long and hard, because of course, Severus was a big part of this, wasn't he? It was all the fantastic sex they'd been having that was responsible for that amazing surge of power Harry had felt out on the Quidditch pitch. 

And what power . . . Harry's breath hitched for an instant. That rush of speed was just the beginning, he knew, but it had been enough for him to look ahead and see the truth of what was coming. Harry was going to have _scads_ of power available, whenever he wanted. Nobody would ever be able to get the better of him, again. 

And that was an odd kind of feeling, for Harry. Growing up, he'd always been aware that at any moment, Vernon might grab his arm wrong and twist it to make a point. Or even fling Harry away too hard, not caring when his head collided with the hearth. And certainly not caring when Dudley started in on him. Even after he'd been attending Hogwarts and had learned enough magic to defend himself, he hadn't felt secure. Because by then, of course, there was the worry that if he used his wand away from school, the Ministry would do something awful to him, like take it away for good and leave him at the mercy of the Dursleys forever. 

And then of course it had been brought home to him, again and again, just how little use even magic could be, when you were faced with those more experienced at it than yourself. Harry had managed to survive on luck alone, more times than he liked to think about. Sure, there had been some magical skill involved, too -- the Sorting Hat's knowing to bring him that sword, Dumbledore and the statues in the atrium coming to his defence. But that was just the thing. It had almost always been somebody else's magical talent coming to his rescue, not his own. That Patronus he'd cast out by the lake that time--he wouldn't have had a chance to do it, if not for Hermione's time-turner. 

Even when he'd won the tournament, it hadn't been _his_ doing. And he knew he'd be dead and gone if his parents hadn't shown up during the duel in the graveyard to give him some time to escape. 

This power was different. He would be the one wielding it, the one making the decisions. And sure, Severus could countermand him if he wanted to, but other than that, Harry would be in control. He still wouldn't be as experienced at magic as Voldemort and the rest of his inner circle of nasty little minions, but for once, experience wouldn't matter. Not against the kind of power Harry was going to have at his disposal. 

For the first time, in a long, long time, possibly forever, he felt truly confident. Free, even, because nobody was going to do anything awful to him, ever again. Nobody _could_ , except Severus, and by then, Harry knew without a doubt that he wouldn't. 

A surge of something indefinable rushed through Harry, then, seeming to fill him from toes to scalp. A warm feeling. Almost honeyed. Harry had been given so few gifts in his life that he cherished every one, and that meant that he easily recognised the feeling coursing through him now. Of course. Harry had thought of the spell as a curse, but in some ways, _Cambiare Podentes_ was really more like a gift. It had taken a long time to see that, but it was a gift of power. Ultimate magical power. And if it required slavery to make the power flow . . . 

Harry wasn't daft enough to be happy about that end of things, but it was starting to look like it wasn't as bad a deal as it had been before. He was finally getting what he was supposed to get out of the bargain. What he'd wanted. The whole reason he'd been willing to go into this in the first place. 

He'd be invulnerable, once their powers crossed completely. 

"Severus!" Harry said again as he bounded over to the shower and yanked the door open. "We have to celebrate!" 

The other man turned around to face him, his hair a black curtain as the water flowed over it. But it wasn't his hair Harry was looking at, not really. 

_Mmmm._ Severus' long, thick cock had water streaming over it too, the rivulets making his crotch hair a sleek mat, beads of moisture gathering at the tip of his cock. Hanging there, they simply glistened, like dewdrops just waiting to be lapped up. 

Severus wasn't even hard, but that didn't matter. Harry's mouth was watering, already. Harry wanted him, and he suddenly couldn't think of any better way to celebrate than to step into the shower, clothes and all. He dropped to his knees on the tiles, his hands reaching up to begin to stroke that cock, up and down, up and down. 

"Harry--" 

Harry glanced up, feeling cocky. And in charge. Which was really strange, considering that he was the slave here, but more and more he was starting to realise that when it came to his relationship with Severus, that didn't matter. It really, really didn't. 

"Want me to stop?" he asked, his thumb massaging Severus' foreskin in little circles that made the cock in his hand swell and grow. It was a feeling Harry liked, that sensation of weight. He moved one hand a little to hold Severus' cock, using his other hand to weigh the man's balls. So heavy and substantial, and round and firm in their casing of soft, wrinkly skin. Sometimes Harry thought he liked Severus' balls even more than his cock. He liked to roll them gently back and forth in his hands and feel the skin around them tense as Severus' cock got hard and pulled on it. 

Shocking Severus was great fun, Harry decided. The man was all but speechless for a moment. Unfortunately, he seemed to recover from the surprise of having a fully-clothed Harry join him in the shower after a second or two. He looked down to where Harry was kneeling before him. "You're getting wet." 

Hmm, maybe he wasn't quite over his shock after all, saying something as obvious as that. Brainless, even. It made Harry feel better about his own sometimes-not-so-brilliant comments, to hear one like that coming from Severus. 

"Really?" he asked, laughing, but not so much at Severus. There was more than that buoying his mood. A lot more. Just like when he'd dribbled syrup all over Severus and the bed as well, he found he didn't care how big a mess he might make. He couldn't remember closing the shower door, so water was probably spraying all over the floor behind him, but there was something liberating about that, really. It felt decadent. Naughty, perhaps. 

Harry was finding that he liked the sensation of being naughty. 

He took Severus in his mouth, then, enclosing the cockhead with moist warmth, his tongue darting out to lap at the ridge on the underside. Severus liked that, Harry knew. It never failed to bring forth a little shiver that started at the man's calves and sort of coursed its way up his body. And when Harry twisted his tongue a bit, and poked at the ridge, there, and yes, there, he could sometimes even get Severus to make a noise that sounded like he was trying hard not to moan. 

Harry wanted him to moan. Or better yet, cry out. Babble, even, the way Harry sometimes did when Severus sucked him, keeping Harry in such a state of need that Harry sometimes felt he'd die if he didn't climax. He wanted to hear Severus lose control so much that it was almost like a craving. Harry drew Severus more deeply into his mouth, as deeply as he could. Which wasn't very deep, actually. He wasn't sure how Severus managed to give such deep blowjobs without choking and sputtering all over the place. Granted, Harry wasn't quite as long, but still . . . 

_Practice,_ Harry thought, a little impishly. _I bet I'll get there with practice, so . . ._

He started moving his head back and forth, taking Severus all the way to the back of his mouth, then pulling back again. To think he'd been worried that bare cock might not taste good, when it was so very delicious! Or at least, Severus' was. Harry wouldn't know about anyone else's, but that was all right. His little . . . _thing . . ._ for Bryerson seemed a bit ridiculous, now. Why would he have been fantasising about _him_ when he had someone like Severus, right under his nose? 

So yeah, Harry liked what he had, taste and all. Especially taste. Severus usually had a musky flavour. Heady. Intense. Harry loved it. A blowjob in the shower actually had drawbacks, he was finding. Severus must have just washed his cock and balls. Right now they had a clean, fresh taste, very close to the crisp flavour of water itself. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but Harry missed the musk. 

Wanting more of Severus, more of his own particular flavour, Harry tensed his tongue and darted it into the slit at the tip of Severus' cock. 

The man thrust his hips out, his hands scrabbling for purchase against the slick walls of the shower. "Bed--" 

By then Harry was soaked clear through, but that wasn't why he gave in to the urging. He actually wanted to finish this in the shower, for the novelty of it, if nothing else. Even if his knees were starting to ache. 

But no . . . Severus had said _bed,_ and all at once, Harry wanted to see what obeying would do for their crossing of powers. After that exhilarating rush of speed on his broom, Harry was eager to try anything that would push the process along. 

"Bed, yeah," he agreed, pulling himself up to stand. Ugh. Severus had shut the water off by then, and Harry felt absolutely sodden, his clothes a rapidly cooling mass. Not exactly a feeling that would normally make him want to leap into sex, but then again, Severus didn't let him feel it for long. Strong, long-fingered hands were slipping buttons free, yanking down his zip, and peeling fabric away from skin. Bit tricky, considering he still had his shoes on. Not to mention his glasses, which had long since fogged. He'd completely forgotten about them, but of course he'd been going on taste and touch and smell for a while. 

They ended up tumbling together onto the bed, the two of them naked, damp from the shower, shivering until they dove under the thick duvet and more or less cuddled. Just for a moment, though. Just until they were warm, and Severus urged Harry into the position he'd called _soixante-neuf_ the first time they'd tried it. The name had sounded exotic and exciting to Harry, the same way _frottage_ still did, at least until afterwards, when they'd been lying in bed together. Then, Severus had translated it, and appeared amused when Harry had only shrugged. Sixty-nine? Bit odd, really. 

He hadn't really got the name until Severus had drawn a loopy six and nine in the air, his wand leaving a trail of greenish smoke in the air, and then had given him a rather pointed glance. 

"Oh . . ." Harry had grinned, then, thinking it brilliant. 

"Wait until I teach you seventy." 

Harry had brightened at that, only to have Severus shake his head, even more amused. 

"Oh, you!" Definitely, the man had deserved to be bonked over the head with a pillow, even if it had made him glower. The look on his face at _that_ had made Harry laugh out loud. "Never thought things would be like this," he'd murmured after a moment. "So . . .I don't know. Carefree, I guess." 

Hmm, seemed like that admission meant something to Severus. "You're happy then?" he'd asked, a little stiffly. Like he was almost afraid of the answer. 

"I'm happy," Harry had said, smiling as he'd snuggled up against Severus. "The slave thing . . . well, when I think about it, it's not what I would have wanted, right? But here's the thing--I don't think about it any longer. Or, not much." 

And to think, they'd had that snippet of conversation _before_ Harry had discovered that their powers were starting to cross. 

Now, as he scooted around in the bed to straddle Severus, head-to-toe, eagerly swallowing as much of the other man as he could fit in his mouth, Harry decided he was better than happy. Sex with Severus really wasn't an experience to be missed. Brilliant didn't even begin to describe it, and that was without counting the potential it had for enabling them to crossing their powers still further. 

Harry made a contented noise as he worked Severus' cock and felt his own swallowed right down to the root. _Mmmm, good. So good._ He tried to say so, but of course with his mouth filled to overflowing with warm, delicious cock, it came out more like a gurgle. 

For some reason, it struck Harry as funny that he was talking with his mouth full, and that for once, Severus wasn't complaining. 

That was Harry's last coherent thought for quite some time, because by then Severus' attentions to his cock were getting quite energetic, and that despite the fact that Severus was the man on the bottom. _Ah, God._ Harry started thrusting down into Severus' mouth a little, needing more friction, but his position on his elbows and knees seemed too unstable. Moaning, he let his body slide until most of his weight was resting on Severus, and grabbed the man's shins with both hands, the better to control his own angle of entry into that wet, eager mouth. 

Legs splayed to either side, Harry thrust down sharply now, wanting more contact, more of Severus. In some strange way it seemed like he wanted to possess him, like all this frantic thrusting was staking some kind of claim. He felt like he had the other night, when he'd said over and over that Severus was his. When he'd made Severus say it, too. 

And Severus _was_ his, Harry knew. That fact actually made him want to swallow Severus down a whole lot deeper. Make him be _all_ Harry's, literally, but every time he lowered his lips around the large, delicious cock in his mouth, the fantasy shattered. He had to be really careful not to gag. 

Well, Harry didn't have that part down as well as Severus, but for all that, sixty-nine was nothing short of brilliant. Harry had thought so the first time they'd done it, but _this_ time it was even better. They ended up coming almost at the same time. Harry wasn't actually sure who started off first, whether it was the sharp taste of Severus' semen that pushed Harry off the edge too, or if Harry's orgasm triggered Severus'. It was too close to call, not that he was trying. 

In the end, all that mattered was that their mutual thrusting and straining ended up being entirely satisfied. Sighing with pleasure, Harry spent a while afterwards just lying atop Severus, staring at his spent cock, giving it the occasional lazy lick before he rolled them both slightly so that they were lying more on their sides, facing each other. 

"More?" asked the other man, his warm breath brushing Harry's balls, slightly to the side of his face by then. 

He was offering, not asking, Harry knew. Severus was like that. Unfailingly generous in bed. Which was pretty un-Slytherin of him, Harry thought, but then again, Severus did like Harry's pleasure. Loved it, in fact, so it wasn't as though he was always giving without taking in return. 

Actually, Harry thought as he turned around to face the same way and curled up against Severus, when the sex was really, really good, like this, there wasn't any question of giving or taking. It was just all _there,_ for the both of them to enjoy. 

"Mmm, brilliant," he murmured, his fingers trailing across the sparse hair scattered on Severus' chest. As often happened, it seemed like his attention was drawn to the scars marring the man's skin. Harry wasn't sure why. He just knew that he liked to touch them. To kiss them. 

As long as he didn't ask questions about those scars, Severus didn't seem to mind Harry making it clear that he'd noticed them. 

Apparently thinking that Harry's "brilliant" had meant he wanted to come again, Severus smoothed a hand down Harry's chest and stomach, then began teasing his cock with sure, practiced strokes. 

"Oy. Bit sensitive there," gasped Harry, shifting his hips back a little bit. "I know you asked if I wanted more, but I don't think I'm ready quite yet." 

"All right." Severus settled his hand on Harry's hipbone instead, letting it just rest there. He yawned, loudly, then appeared to shake himself awake again. "What was that you said when you first came in? Something about celebrating?" 

Tired and relaxed as he was, Harry sat up suddenly. That was right; he'd forgotten. Well, no, he hadn't really forgotten. Not for a second. The knowledge of their crossed powers was so acute it was like a part of his mind was brilliantly lit with it, but he had forgotten that he hadn't told Severus yet. Maybe at some level, he'd expected Severus to know instinctively, or something. It did seem the kind of thing the master wizard might just sense, right? 

But the spell didn't always work as they anticipated. The mind bond certainly hadn't. 

"Our powers are starting to cross!" Harry exclaimed, the bed shifting oddly until he realised he was actually bouncing, he was so excited. He quickly explained what had happened out on the pitch and how he'd never flown anywhere near that fast and how it was definitely a sign of increased powers. 

"Take an occasional breath," Severus advised, his voice dry. 

Harry didn't need to be told that, but he took a long, deep one, again liking the idea that Severus had told him to do something, and he'd done it. He wondered how much of an edge a single command like that might give him. 

"I thought you'd be excited we're finally getting somewhere," Harry said. 

"Have you been anxious about when it would start to happen?" 

Harry stared at him. "Well, _yeah,_ considering the occasional story the papers run. I mean, after the Tower Bridge thing, the attacks seemed to quiet somewhat--" 

"No doubt Bellatrix's abrupt death caused some re-thinking of plans. Not to mention Bole and Talmadge's mysterious demise." 

"Mysterious?" 

"I do flatter myself that the Dark Lord will see my hand there. But it's more likely that he'll assume they killed Bellatrix, and _her_ followers took revenge." 

Harry swallowed. "He never Legilimised them to find out that I killed her?" 

"No. At that last meeting I attended, the Dark Lord was largely concerned with the change that the invocation had made in his mental link to you. Are you still Occluding all the time, by the way?" 

Harry shrugged. "Seemed like I'd better. I didn't want him sensing it when our powers started to cross. Anyway, Occluding's almost no effort once you're used to it." 

"A good thing you mastered it, especially now." 

"But you still aren't excited that our powers are crossing. What's wrong?" 

"We've only just become intimate. I expected it to take much longer for that to translate into any magical effects. Months, perhaps." 

"Well, you know I always seem to break the rules," joked Harry. Then he preened, just a little, as something else occurred to him. Bit silly, really, to be so proud of it, but he was. It was great not to feel like the inexperienced, awkward one all the time, after all. "I guess I just really know how to satisfy you, you think? I'm good at sex." 

Severus' lips curled upwards. "Certainly, I have no complaints." 

Harry nodded. "Me either. Or is it me, neither? Never have known. But anyway, so it's happening faster than you expected. No harm in that. Maybe we can cross our powers completely before there are any serious attacks. Any more of them, I mean. And it's definitely better if we cross fully before he gets wind that we _can_ , right? I still think about that misfiled declaration of slavery for us, you know? It could be discovered any time, and I'd rather face him down with him not knowing what I've got in my wand." 

Severus pursed his lips. "The issue of twinned wands still might pose an issue, even considering fully crossed powers." 

"You're joking." Harry frowned. "Oh. You're not. I suppose you should buy me another wand, then." 

"Leaving aside the fact that you can buy it--you have funds enough at your disposal--any additional wand would end up being registered, which could alert the Dark Lord that something is being planned. I think it best for you to accustom yourself to using my wand." Snape's nostrils flared. "Particularly since we are talking about you wielding my own powers." 

"Combined powers." Harry wasn't going to discount his own role in this. He was going to have help again, yes. But he wasn't helpless. And besides, this time it was help he'd earned, more or less. 

"Yes. Combined powers." Severus blinked then, as though just figuring out a potions puzzle. "Ah. Of course." 

"Come again?" 

Instead of answering, Severus pulled back a bit and propped his head up on an elbow. The covers had ended up the floor a while earlier, so the pose displayed Severus' whole body, strong and nude and unashamed, to advantage. Harry stared. He couldn't help it. Severus wasn't beautiful; he was too male and rugged for that word to make sense. But he looked _good._ Really good, so much so that Harry felt his balls tightening. Again. 

He grinned, the word _greedy_ suddenly occurring to him. He'd never thought of his balls that way before, and that he did now . . . it was funny. His grin spread. He felt goofy and silly, but he didn't mind feeling that way. It was nice to be so completely relaxed. At ease. Though one part of him was distinctly not relaxing, now. 

Severus flicked a glance down toward where Harry's crossed legs did little to hide his growing erection. 

"Oh, do think of something other than your cock for a moment," he purred, voice full of good humour. "Now, as I was saying before you began to ogle me--" 

"I don't ogle!" Harry licked his lips. "Um, well, maybe I do, but what can you expect, lying there like that?" He lowered his voice, surprised at how husky the next bit came out. Husky, but sincere. "I .. . er, you know, I really like the way you look, Severus." 

The man pushed his hair back from his forehead, like he thought Harry was talking about his hair alone. 

"No," said Harry, laughing. " _All_ of you. Well, I think I liked your cock from almost the first, though I didn't want to admit it. But yeah, you really do look good to me." 

Harry was astonished at how Severus took that. The man's cheeks went slightly pink, and he glanced over Harry's shoulder as though embarrassed, when he must have known for quite some time that Harry did find him very attractive indeed. The invocation probably couldn't have worked, otherwise. It was for lovers, after all. 

Maybe he just hadn't expected Harry to _say_ he was attracted. Ever. Which made Harry realise how stingy he'd been, all along. Severus had made sure that Harry knew how physically attractive Severus found him. When Harry thought back on things, he could remember some times that Severus might have read between the lines to figure out that Harry liked him that way, but he couldn't recall ever having really said so, in so many words. Except during the ritual bath, when he'd babbled on about the man's cock, but that hardly counted as being willing to say what he thought. Had he ever, of his own volition, made sure that Severus knew what Harry thought of him? 

No, he hadn't. And what sort of way was that for a man to treat his lover? 

A memory flashed inside Harry. _Turning around in the shower._ Except, instead of Severus turning, it was Harry, months ago, practically biting his lips, he'd been so afraid that Severus was going to make a derisive comment about Harry's looks. Laugh at him, even. 

But Severus hadn't laughed at him, not once. In fact, when the man had realised how little Harry expected to be admired physically, he'd made a point of telling Harry what he thought of his eyes. His physique. His cock, even. 

And what had Harry done in return? It was worse than if he'd merely neglected to ever compliment Severus, Harry realised as more memories jolted through him, these ones far harsher. Himself, making it clear that not only was Harry not attracted, he'd never be attracted. Harry didn't exactly feel guilty for saying those things, though he could have been more diplomatic, he supposed. But he'd been convinced that Severus would use _Cambiare Podentes_ to torture him, or at least hurt him horribly. Not to mention, completely unaware that he _could_ be attracted to men. So it only stood to reason that Harry had been a bit defensive. Rude, even, he thought, cringing a little bit when he remembered some of the blunter things he'd said. 

What made him feel bad now wasn't so much that he'd told Severus he didn't find him attractive, but that when things had started to change, he'd never really taken that back. 

And while Severus was easily clever enough to know that of course things had changed--a lot--he also might think that Harry was just making the best of a bad deal, or something. _Better half a wand than none at all,_ something like that. 

But it wasn't like that! It wasn't like that at all, and suddenly Harry was possessed of an absolute need, a burning urge, to make sure that Severus understood that. Really understood it. 

The trouble was, Harry realised as he stared at Severus, was that he wasn't exactly sure how to begin. _You're not exactly a handsome bloke, but,_ seemed destined to strike the wrong note, for all it was true. He didn't know how to explain what he thought. 

Though he did know, thanks to Hermione, one way to handle a situation like this. The blurt method hadn't failed him yet. 

Deep breath, lungs filling with air. And talking on top of the rush to exhale. "You're striking," he heard himself say. "Lean and tall, and your eyes and hair are dark, just like I like most, and you know how to move, you know? The way you can make your robes swirl, and then _naked,_ lying there like that with your hipbones jutting and your cock so thick and heavy and--" 

Harry stopped, because he suddenly realised that he sounded about as brainless as he ever had. No wonder Severus was just staring at him like he didn't know what to say. 

"I do like the way you look," he finished, feeling like he should have done a better job explaining why. 

"Relax, Harry," said Severus, his voice very dry. Reaching out a hand, he rested it atop Harry's hipbone. "I did believe you, you know." 

Harry blinked. "You did?" 

Severus' smile was a little bit thin. "It's not as though you can lie to me." 

Oh, yeah. There was that. Harry was a bit startled that he'd forgotten it. On the other hand . . . "Oh, the mind bond lets me exaggerate and understate and pretty much twist things around, if I want," he said, knowing it was true. "I just can't tell you an out-and-out lie." 

Harry covered the other man's hand as it rested on him. "But I really do want you to know how attractive I find you, Severus." 

Severus' lips curled upwards slightly. "I suppose you must," he said, his tone that time light. "You were ogling me, after all." 

"So I was," said Harry, more at ease with the idea, by then. Feeling like there was no reason not to, he bent over and kissed Severus on the lips, then sat up again. "Anyway, what did you mean, before?" 

"Hmm?" 

Harry settled onto his side, facing Severus. "We had just agreed that I'd be using our combined powers, not yours alone, and then you got a funny look on your face and said, _Oh, of course,_ something like that." 

Severus frowned. "Ah. Yes. Well, the truth is that I think I felt it when your power surged." 

"I thought you might. Did you know what it was?" 

"No, I've only just put it together." 

"So, what was it like?" 

Severus' frown grew more profound. "I'm not at all certain that I should tell you." 

That had Harry sitting up, a dark suspicion growing in his mind. "Oh, so _that's_ why you stretched out like a nude on display. To distract me! You knew I liked the way you looked!" 

"Of course I knew." 

Harry grabbed a pillow, curling his fingers into the pillowcase as he considered whether to go ahead and bonk Severus over the head again. 

"I also very much like hearing you say it." 

Harry shoved the pillow back toward the headboard, huffing a little. "Well, your first distraction worked but this time we're not getting sidetracked. So, out with it. What is it that you're not sure you should tell me?" 

"Rather bossy this evening, aren't you?" 

Harry just gave him an impatient look. 

But still, Severus hedged. "I'd hate for you to hesitate at a crucial moment merely because it might affect me in some way." 

"In _what_ way?" 

Severus put on a nonchalant expression, but Harry could tell it was an act. "I was brewing when you were discovering the power at your command. I had reached the stage at which charms are applied to the vapour rising from the--" Severus shook his head slightly, as though realising he was going into too much detail. "My spell failed." 

"Oh, my God," breathed Harry, suddenly understanding what must have happened. Crossing powers meant that he would be drawing on Severus' for a moment, or longer, depending on the spell. And so of course it stood to reason that during that time, if Severus reached into his own magic, he would find it missing. "If you didn't know that it was me, stealing your powers, then I'd think you'd have been a bit more concerned about any spell of yours failing!" 

"You aren't stealing," Severus said, his expression quite calm. "I freely offer you my magic. If I didn't want you to have it, you would find that our powers would never cross." 

"Oh, don't change the damned subject! Is it your usual practice to misfire a spell, then just go about your business showering as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened?" 

"Nothing out of the ordinary did happen, Harry," insisted Snape, stroking a hand down Harry's shoulder and arm. "It's a complex series of spells I weave together at one stage of the brewing. If the potion isn't quite ready to absorb them--not an infrequent occurrence, as advanced brewing can be more an art than a science--then I merely wait a moment and begin the spell sequence again. It's happened before." 

Oh. Well, that didn't sound so dire, then. "What makes you think it was me siphoning off your magic at all, in that case?" 

"I grew slightly faint for a moment or two." 

"Slightly faint," repeated Harry. "What does that mean?" 

Severus' hand on Harry's arm stopped its caressing motion. "A little dizzy, just at that same moment. But that is not terribly unusual either, when I'm in the presence of such potent fumes. Noxious, almost." 

Harry blew out a breath. It was news to him that Severus was in the habit of cooking up stuff that could affect him like that. "What on earth were you working on?" 

Severus stretched a little, yawning, then flipped over on his stomach and lay down. "Wolfsbane. It's a hard brew to get correct, I'll have you know. I'm really quite exhausted." 

_Wolfsbane._ A sudden rush of tangled feelings seemed to wrap itself around Harry, then. He hadn't thought about Remus in a long time, which made him feel a bit guilty. Harry wasn't even sure when the full was, and he used to keep such careful track, too! 

And mixed into the tangle were feelings for Severus. He hated Remus; Harry knew he did. But he kept making the Wolfsbane, all the same. 

"Thanks," said Harry, softly. 

Severus snorted. "I told you I'd continue providing it, didn't I? It's a lot of work, in case you're interested. My back aches now. Hence the shower." 

"Actually, you told me that you couldn't promise me that you would keep making it." 

"Yes, you demonstrated your considerable powers of recall on your N.E.W.T.s," drawled Severus, stretching his legs out and groaning, just slightly. "Now, if you could learn to read between the lines as well, you'd be something truly formidable." 

"You mean you'll keep making the Wolfsbane, even if Albus dies before Remus does?" 

When Snape turned his head toward Harry, his eyebrows were drawn together in obvious irritation. "I mean that I've been hinting for five minutes that I'd like a backrub after all my hard work!" 

"Oh." 

"Yes, _oh,_ " said Severus, almost caustically. 

Harry reached over to the night table and fumbled in a drawer. Took him a minute to find the right salve for the job, the really nicely scented one Severus made himself. 

"You know you can have a backrub, or anything else you like, just for the asking," Harry rebuked the man, slapping him lightly on one buttock to emphasise his point. 

Severus wriggled his bare hips a bit when Harry straddled him and began to pour salve onto his shoulder blades. "I wanted you to offer." 

Hmm, well that bore thinking about, Harry thought. If Severus wanted that, Harry should try his best to provide it. 

"All right," he agreed easily. It wasn't as though it was an imposition. He loved touching Severus. Harry started moving his hands as he talked, his fingers working deeply into Severus' vertebrae. "I was thinking though, that now that our powers are crossing, maybe you could give me more opportunities to obey you. You've been really careful not to treat me like a slave, and it's not like I don't appreciate that, but I know you wouldn't ask me to do anything I didn't want to do, anyway, so maybe we should try it, you think?" 

"You want me to treat you like a slave?" 

Put like that, it sounded a strange request. "Er, no. Not exactly. But you could tell me what to do more often, you know. I mean, we should try it, to see if it makes our powers cross a whole lot faster." 

"Higher," said Severus. 

Harry moved his hands up to the man's shoulders. "It's not like you have to do anything different, really. It could be just small things you tell me to do--" 

"Harder." 

Harry ground his palms down, twisting them as he pressed against the knotted muscles near Severus' neck. "You could just try it, you know," he grumbled. 

"I _am_ trying it. I'm wondering if you're ever going to notice." Severus shook all over, probably with laughter, Harry thought. But that was all right. He didn't mind being laughed at, not like this. "If you're this poor at reading between the lines then perhaps I should be more direct and tell you that yes, I will continue making the Wolfsbane for as long as needs be." Severus dropped his voice, speaking so low that Harry had to strain to hear him. "I'm not making it for Albus any longer." 

Harry felt happiness washing all through him at that admission. His last, lingering resentments over the whole brothel thing faded away, then and there. Because here was Severus keeping faith, just as he'd said. 

"Thank you," Harry said again, vaguely aware that something was happening inside him. He'd been bonded to Snape by means of magic for months now, though at some level he hadn't really felt all that bonded. And then in these last few days he'd become aware that the two of them did have a bond--a strong, sexual one. But this new feeling, this sensation of connectedness . . . it was something else. 

"A little to the left," said Severus, his tone offhand instead of significant, that time. 

But Harry read between the lines, all the same, and very happily followed Severus' directions until sighing, the two of them fell into a contented sleep. 

  
  
  
  



	32. Chapter 32

 

 **Thursday, October 21, 1998 ---- 2:48 p.m.**

"Watch the class for me, Potter," said Bryerson under his breath as he passed by Harry, who was walking up and down the aisles, supervising as students scratched out answers to a pop quiz on Voldemort's rise, fall, and return. 

Truth to tell, Harry was more than a little uncomfortable with the topic, since he was included as an important figure in the narrative at times. On the other hand, he really respected Bryerson for covering this material at all, let alone in a such a matter-of-fact way. Better than Umbridge, who had taught outright lies about the danger the wizarding world was in, or Harry's Defence teachers during sixth and seventh year, who had basically ignored the entire issue of Voldemort's return. 

Some people might say that this was history and ought to be taught in Binns' class, Harry supposed. But the ghost never even got up to the rise of Grindelwald, let alone Voldemort. Not that Bryerson said "Voldemort." Even in the readings the teacher had assigned, it was always "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-etc." The whole thing grated on Harry's nerves, though it was better than hearing him called "the Dark Lord," certainly. On the other hand, it was somewhat convenient that Bryerson didn't expect Harry to use the term "Voldemort," seeing as Severus didn't like him to say it. Harry had been going out to the pitch on his free periods to test his flying speed, which so far seemed not to have increased further over what he'd done on Tuesday. But who knew--it might _de_ crease if Harry started ignoring what he knew Severus wanted from him. 

Well, even if the "You-Know-Who" bit was silly in Harry's opinion, he was heartily glad to see the Defence class finally being taught properly. The students needed to know what they were up against. Particularly these students, thought Harry, frowning as he stared at the left half of the room, where the Slytherins first-years tended to sit. He wondered how many of them had Death Eater relatives. How many of them _admired_ those relatives. 

How many were just like nasty little Charles Bole, slouching in his usual seat in the corner? 

Bryerson had mentioned on Tuesday--again--that Harry hardly ever gave the left side of the room its fair share of his attention, at least in this particular class. Harry would rather keep ignoring Bole's half of the room, but he also wanted to do a good job, and he felt more than a little uncomfortable about the fact that Bryerson had actually used the word "negligent." Harry inwardly sighed as he paced the aisles. He didn't really like any of his options. 

Well, he'd just been told to watch the class. The whole class, he knew Bryerson had meant. They were taking a test, after all. It _was_ pretty negligent to not keep an eye on all of them, Harry decided. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look at the back row of Slytherins, then slid his gaze farther and farther to the left, until it rested on Bole. 

_Oh, God._ Harry had forgotten what a spitting image of his brother the child was. It was like the older Bole was right there in the room with him. Only then did Harry realise just how little attention he must have been paying the Slytherins in this class, to forget a thing like that. He usually did no more than give them fleeting glances. He saw Bole out of the corner of his eye, and looked away. It had been enough for him to register the sneering expression often on the boy's face, but not enough for him to really see that face, if that made sense. 

Now he was seeing it, though. 

And he couldn't seem to look away. 

Something in his gut seemed to twist as his fists clenched and his vision actually blurred, he was so angry. It felt like nothing so much as a snake inside him, coiled to attack. _Needing_ to attack. All his memories of London, the things he tried so hard never to think about, swam before his eyes, urging him on. 

Harry suddenly felt like he'd lost a span of time, because it came to him in a rush of knowledge that Bole was already dead, and Talmadge too. Severus' doing. 

Knowing that didn't stop the waves of anger rushing through him, but it did help him drop his wand back into his pocket. _This_ Bole hadn't done anything to die for. 

_Yet,_ thought Harry caustically. It was probably just a matter of time, what with the sneering attitude he'd seen the child demonstrate time and again in class. 

_Death Eater in training,_ the words flashed through his mind. _Death Eater wannabe._

Even now, Bole's lip was curled slightly as he glanced up, looking around the room. His gaze seemed to come to rest on a Gryffindor girl sitting near the central aisle. A Muggleborn girl, but unlike Hermione, Diana Stebbins had to struggle to learn. 

As Harry watched, Bole's gaze filled with contempt, his nostrils flaring as he stared at the girl. 

Harry's anger, barely restrained all term, abruptly boiled over into rage. "Mr Bole," he snapped, striding purposely forward to tower over the small child, "in case you had yet to notice, this is a test! Five points from Slytherin for trying to look at a classmate's parchment. Don't let it happen again!" 

Bole looked up at him, eyes so sullen they were almost closed. "I wasn't--" 

Harry felt a rush of something else flashing through him. Satisfaction, that was it. Because this was so _easy._ Bole was asking for it, he really was. "Five points for being off-task," he said, barely aware that he was smirking by then. "You're supposed to be working, Bole, not arguing with me." 

The first five points had caused only a minor stir in the classroom--students surreptitiously glancing at the back row to see what was going on. The second five points made quite a few students draw in their breath. 

Hmm, well Harry had never taken points twice in a row like that, before, but Bole had deserved it, so Harry gave the nosy students a look that had them hastily turning back to their own test papers. 

Suddenly, instead of wanting to avoid Bole, Harry was glad he hadn't told Bryerson that he'd rather not help with the first-years' class. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, October 21, 1998 ---- 3:50 p.m.**

Harry didn't know where Bryerson had gone, but he still wasn't back when it was time to dismiss the class. That wasn't typical of him, but it had happened before, a couple of times. 

Harry took it as an indication that the man considered him competent to handle things in his absence, though it wasn't lost on him that Bryerson most often absented himself during test sessions. It was a way of shrugging off the less desirable work, Harry felt. Kind of like how Bryerson still made Harry mark way more than his fair share of essays. 

Today, however, he was just as glad that Bryerson wasn't back yet. 

He waited until Bole was packed up and almost out the door, then called, "Oh, stay behind, would you? Yes, you." 

The boy slunk back and threw himself into a chair at the front of the room. 

"Five points for disrespect," said Harry, feeling almost giddy by then. He could tell that the point losses really bothered Bole, as well they should. First-years who wrecked their house standing were generally given a hard time over it even in Gryffindor. Harry could easily imagine that the Slytherins would be even more hard-nosed about it. "You're to stand when a teacher asks you to stay after. Don't you know that much?" 

Bole mumbled something as he pushed to his feet, reluctance in every line of his body. Harry didn't really catch what he'd said, but he thought it was some kind of reference to Harry not being a "real teacher." 

Apparently the point losses didn't bother him enough to make him watch his mouth, Harry thought. He probably thought he shouldn't have to show respect to anybody with a Muggleborn mother. His fucking Death Eater relatives would have made sure that he thought that way. Not to mention making sure that he hated Harry Potter personally. 

Not for the first time, Harry wondered how Severus could stand his Slytherins. 

"Ten points for stupidity," Harry drawled, watching as the boy's face screwed up into a grimace. But at least he didn't mutter anything else. 

No, he spoke directly. "What did you need?" 

"What did you need, _sir,_ " he corrected the boy, that dark snake inside him twisting again at the thought of forcing Bole to address him properly. 

"Sir," said Bole, almost sneering the word. But he'd said it, thought Harry, who found himself satisfied by that, but wanting more. 

"You turned in a test parchment that was nearly blank." 

"Didn't have a lot to say. Sir." 

"You don't _say_ anything on a test; you _write_ things," said Harry, scorn dripping from his voice. It got to Bole. Harry could tell. He liked it. "Now, let's take a look at what little you wrote, shall we?" 

Harry took his time flipping through the stack of parchments, though he knew all along that Bole's was in the bottom third of the pile. "Ah, here we are." He began reading out loud, starting at the first question Bole had completely neglected to answer. " 'List at least three criminal acts committed by You-Know-Who or his followers in the last three years.' Well?" 

Bole merely shrugged. 

Harry looked down his nose at him. "Can't you think of two, if not three? Or failing that, one? What have you been doing instead of your readings, Bole? Five points for laziness." 

The boy looked up, eyes blazing. "I do my readings, _sir_. I just don't much--" He broke off and simply scowled. 

Harry didn't have any trouble following his line of thought. "You just don't much like them, is that it, Bole?" 

The boy remained mute, his expression stone-like, by then. 

"You idolize them, don't you?" hissed Harry, leaning down. "You admire Death Eaters and all they do. You don't much like the critical tone of Professor Bryerson's assigned readings. You don't think that Hogwarts should show up You-Know-Who for the cruel, cowardly, arsehole he is--" 

"You can't call him that!" 

Harry curled his lips back to show his teeth. "I can call him what I like, Bole. You're the one who has to watch his p's and q's, unless you want to lose even more points. Which reminds me, that's five for forgetting to address me properly, yet again. Now, get to your next class and don't be late. I've no intention of writing a tardy pass for the likes of you." 

He'd have liked to keep Bole longer, but Bryerson's next class was due in five minutes. Huh, and Bryerson still wasn't back. That had never happened before. Harry could handle it, though, even if it was a session of seventh years and Ginny would be present. He didn't feel uncomfortable about seeing her, not now. Their talk during the walk into Hogsmeade had been a good thing, he decided. And as for the rest, well, Bryerson's plans were up at the front, weren't they? Harry didn't exactly feel like he could step into Bryerson's shoes, but he'd been working with the man long enough to feel like he could follow his lesson plans. 

He narrowed his eyes as he watched Bole scurry from the room, but then deliberately forced his expression into pleasant lines when the seventh years began arriving. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, October 21, 1998 ---- 6:32 p.m.**

"Harry, my boy," said Albus softly, from behind Harry's shoulder as he sat at the head table for dinner that night. 

Harry turned around and smiled. For the first time in a long time, seeing the headmaster didn't fill him with a gnawing sense of resentment over how things had turned out. 

Albus pulled out the chair Severus usually occupied and sat down in it. "I understand you had a busy day." 

"Oh, Bryerson, you mean?" Harry waved a hand, then realised he probably should have put his chicken leg down, first. "It wasn't a problem. When he never came back, I had the students finish their test and then helped the next class practice flash-freezing charms to kill a curse in mid-air. Tricky bit of magic, that." Something about the look on Dumbledore's face had Harry asking the obvious. "Er . . . everything all right with the professor?" 

Dumbledore sighed, the creases in his face deepening. "David's fiancée has taken ill. He had to floo to Hungary. He firecalled me just a short while ago to tell me that he wouldn't be back for at least a week. It seems quite likely that Eloise may lose the baby." 

"Oh, that's awful," breathed Harry, mildly surprised. He hadn't even known the fiancée was pregnant. "Really awful. I'm so sorry to hear that." 

"Am I interrupting something?" asked another voice, a deep one that made pleasant shivers race all up and down Harry's legs and spine. 

The headmaster stood up and waved a gnarled hand toward the chair he'd vacated. "Not at all, Severus. Please do be seated. I was just telling Harry that David Bryerson's been called away and is likely to be absent for some days. Harry . . . I know it's a great deal to ask, but do you think you could cover his classes during that time?" 

"Oh, sure," said Harry, nodding. "He's always got his plans written out several days in advance. Yeah, no problem." 

Beside him, Severus seemed to stiffen. 

Harry turned to him. "What? That's hardly a life-altering decision, you know." 

"No, it's just a full teaching schedule plus four nights a week of coaching." 

"For a few days, is all--" 

"No, no, Severus is right," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes looking bemused as he surveyed the pair of them. "Well, right and wrong, I should say. I meant only to ask if Harry would feel comfortable covering the classes he already works with. I'll take charge of the other levels until Bryerson returns." 

Harry had to admit, that did sound a lot better. "That'll work. Right, Severus?" 

The man's hair swayed a little as he replied. "I think you'll find that handling a class by yourself is far more exhausting than assisting a professor." 

"Hey, I did it today. Twice." 

"So you did, Harry, so you did." Albus' voice was very soft, then. "And you gave up your free period. Very commendable. Why don't you take the evening off in recompense?" 

"Yes, why don't you?" echoed Severus, his voice holding a depth of meaning Harry couldn't fail to miss. More free time in the evenings meant more time for sex, after all. 

Besides, if Severus wanted him to take the time off, Harry should do it. It was another opportunity to obey, right? He nodded, even agreeing when the headmaster said he'd take care of informing the team captain. After Dumbledore left his side, Harry vaguely wondered how he knew which team Harry worked with on Thursdays. But then again, the headmaster was reputed to know everything that went on in Hogwarts. 

Harry somehow doubted that extended to what went on in Severus' private quarters, though. 

He turned to Severus, who was neatly using a knife and fork to eat his chicken leg. "Um, have you had a chance to tell him, yet?" 

"About?" 

Harry couldn't believe he was asking. Instead of mentioning sex, he went with, "Uh . . . the Quidditch pitch the other night, what I told you?" 

Severus' glance at him was cool. "I'd have heard of that even if you'd never mentioned it, Potter. The Slytherins were quite impressed. No doubt word reached the headmaster as well. Probably, that same night." 

_Potter._ That sort of stung. Harry wasn't calling Severus 'Snape' at meals, not any longer, and somehow, it bothered him that the other man hadn't picked up on that. Harry frowned, wanting to say something, but not sure what. 

Over dessert--well, Harry's dessert as Severus was only having tea--Severus quietly told him to meet him upstairs. _Seventh floor_ , he said, just before leaving the table. 

Room of Requirement, then. Frankly, Harry thought they could have walked there together. So what if the students saw? It wasn't like he and Severus were going to be holding hands, or anything. 

When Harry walked into the room, he found it set up much as it had been when he was training Dumbledore's Army. Severus was already there, pacing back and forth before a large fireplace. Harry didn't really remember that from before, actually. 

"Just as well you have some time before nine o'clock for once," said Severus as soon as Harry had shut the door. To Harry's ear, his tone sounded a little critical. "We should determine what our crossed powers can do." 

Harry ignored the remark about his schedule. The fall term would be over soon enough, after all, and it would be ridiculous in the winter to practice so late. He'd be switching all the teams to earlier times, then. 

"Why come here, though?" 

"We are experimenting, which means we should be prepared for anything. This room will assist. Moreover, it is the only place besides my quarters where privacy is easily assured." 

_Right,_ Harry thought. So maybe it was just as well they'd arrived here separately. Slytherins like Charles Bole would be only too delighted to tell tales to their parents, if they thought Severus Snape was training Harry Potter in defence. On the other hand, Voldemort could probably guess that something like that might be going on. He was pretty sure to have noticed Severus missing at every meeting for a while now. Or . . . had Severus even been called, lately? Harry felt awful that he'd never much wondered about it, not even during the times when they'd made love and he'd seen the awful skull-and-snake on Severus' forearm. 

"Um . . . how's your mark?" 

Severus turned on a booted heel to stare at him, his robes flaring at the hem. 

"I meant, does it hurt a lot, does it--" Harry cleared his throat. "Are you getting called often?" 

"No more than has been usual during the last few years." 

Harry bit his lip. Severus was just a regular fountain of information, sometimes. He put that thought aside, though. "How do you bear it? Special potions?" 

"The Dark Lord's call is an occasional twinge, nothing as severe as you obviously envision," said Severus dryly. "Even if I could repress it, I wouldn't, as it's quite useful to know when his followers are being summoned." 

"It didn't look like a twinge the time _I_ saw you get called!" 

Severus shrugged. "It was a shock to have that happen so soon after the invocation, let alone while we were actively investigating the nature of our bond. Now, if we could proceed to the matter at hand?" He extended his wand, grip facing Harry, who hesitated a little before taking it. He'd never forgotten how ill-behaved some wands could be for him. 

Remembering Ollivander's advice, he gave it a little wave, but nothing dire happened. Snape's wand didn't feel quite the same as his own, he quickly realised. The weight was different. And the balance. And the grip. And of course, magically, it didn't quite speak to him the same way. Snape's wand felt . . . heavy to him, he decided, but this time he wasn't thinking of ounces. It was more like it made him feel sort of weighed-down. 

"What's it made of?" 

"Ebony with dragon heartstring. Well? Go on." 

Harry noticed a chair nearby, though he could have sworn it wasn't there the moment before. "Er . . . maybe you should sit down for this, you think?" 

"I think not." 

"What if you faint?" 

"Cast something. Now." 

Severus sounded so determined that Harry decided not to press it. This time, at least. He waved the wand for another moment or two, getting used to it as he wondered what spell to start with. The empty hearth gave him an idea. " _Incendio,_ " he incanted. 

He felt magic flowing, a little more methodically when he used his own wand, but the spell worked well enough. A spark shot from the end of the wand and ignited a small fire amidst the already-charred wood sitting in the hearth. 

"Impressive," drawled Severus, voice sardonic. "Perhaps I will faint at such a sight, after all." 

Harry slanted him a glance. "Very funny. I wasn't really trying, I'll have you know. I mean, I was just making sure your wand would work, to start with. This time I'll do what I did out on the pitch, and push myself some. Don't blame me if you get dizzy." 

Not much chance of blame, one way or another. When Harry cast the spell again, all that resulted was another spark exactly like the first. Less impressive, actually, since by then the fire was already burning. 

"Huh," said Harry, a little surprised. He'd just assumed that what had happened on the Quidditch pitch would translate into stronger spells, as well. He tried again, this time really pushing his power to the limit, the same way he'd tried harder to fly faster, but again, his _Incendio_ seemed to be nothing but a standard spell. 

"Perhaps your own wand," said Severus, frowning. 

Harry's own wand, though, didn't make any difference. 

Severus finally did sit down, his brow furrowed. "Well. It seems my earlier instinct was correct, and it will simply take more time to cross our powers." 

Harry sank into another chair, frowning. "Then what was that out on the pitch?" 

"You've a strong natural affinity for flying, I think. It only stands to reason that enhanced access to magic would show itself there, first. In time I'm sure that your spell power will improve as well." 

"Maybe I need to obey you more," said Harry, leaning his chin on a hand as he stared into the meagre flames in the hearth. "I have really been trying since Tuesday, but even after I asked, you didn't start bossing me around very much. Just during that backrub, mostly." 

"I doubt obedience is really the key," said Snape slowly. " _Podentes_ is built on your satisfying me, as you know. And Harry? I never did want a slave, per se." 

"Well, I still think we should give it a decent try--" 

Snape leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, his mouth taking on a slant that Harry could only think of as wicked and exciting all at once. "Perhaps we can concentrate on that during our weekend in Cologne." 

"Huh?" 

The man's voice went silky smooth. "Surely you haven't forgotten. We agreed to go abroad this weekend. To a place of my choosing." 

Oh yeah, they had. With everything that had happened since, Harry actually _had_ forgotten. "That was back when we weren't getting on and I thought some time alone might help, though." 

Even deeper, that voice. So much so that it instantly stirred Harry's cock to life. "Oh, so now that we're getting on fairly well, you don't want us to enjoy more time alone? Time completely alone, without the prospect of so much as a house-elf disturbing us? Without even a Floo? Time just for us, to explore one another at length, Harry?" 

It was probably the _Harry_ that did it. Harry gasped, his cock throbbing, his mind instantly overflowing with ideas about what they could do with privacy like that. "Oh, yeah. That sounds brilliant, all right." 

Severus' eyes glittered like obsidian catching the light. "And since you insist, I'll be sure to provide plenty of opportunity for obedience. In fact, I have an idea already about what I'd like to command of you." 

Once, words like that from Severus would have petrified Harry. Now they just made him all the more desperate. He shifted in his chair, aware that he was practically panting with desire. "What?" 

"Oh, I think it can wait until we're alone in Cologne with an entire weekend to work on it. We'll stay there instead of flooing home each evening, I believe. I want you all to myself." 

Harry couldn't seem to stop wriggling his hips, because whatever Severus had planned was sure to be good. Really good, even if Harry wasn't even sure where this Cologne was. Not that he cared. The way Severus was looking at him, they might not even leave their room. "No, tell me now--" 

"You're not to inquire again," said Severus, a slight smirk playing about his lips. "How's that for a command?" 

_Tricky,_ thought Harry, grinning. "Bit high-handed, but I don't guess I can really object, seeing as I've been asking for it." 

"Oh, you're asking for it, all right," said Severus, his dark gaze flicking down to Harry's crotch. Harry felt seared by that glance, even though with robes on, Severus couldn't have seen the bulge in Harry's trousers. But then, he didn't need to see. He _knew._ He knew Harry. 

And Harry was starting to know him. This wasn't just about obedience, it was also about pleasing Severus, and what had Severus said he would like? "Hey, want another backrub? I'm offering. Or would you rather lay back and enjoy a nice long blowjob?" 

A four-poster draped with black velvet bedcovers flickered into existence in the middle of the room, squarely in front of the flames, which abruptly leapt higher as the lights in the room dimmed. 

"This really is the best room ever," said Harry, standing up to go to Severus. That sense of confidence washed over him again as the obvious occurred to him. "Since our powers aren't crossed very far yet, I guess we just haven't been having enough sex, right? We'd best get to it, then. Just how much does it take to satisfy that large cock of yours, anyway?" 

Harry reached down to grab it through the layers of cloth Severus always wore when he was out of his private rooms. So much cloth. So many buttons. Huh . . . all these clothes made Harry want to peel the garments off him, one by one. 

"You're the insatiable one," Severus murmured, pulling Harry off his feet in one smooth motion that made him tumble onto the man's lap. Harry hurriedly shifted backwards, so it was his thighs and not his bum sitting on top of Severus' erection. 

Severus didn't comment on Harry's sudden movement. He merely brought his head down for a long kiss, his hand lazily freeing the clasp of Harry's robe before reaching inside to unbutton Harry's shirt. Before he was halfway through, though, he broke off the kiss and pushed Harry from his lap. "No . . . you undress for me. Just the shirt, to start." 

Severus always had liked him bare-chested, Harry remembered, flexing his muscles a little after he'd dropped his shirt to the floor. 

"Come here," Severus groaned. When Harry was close enough, Severus reached out to tug a little at the nipple ring. "This suits you." 

It wasn't lost on Harry that the other man truly did find that ring erotic. He never would have guessed . . . Severus had spent a lot of their time together basically ignoring the small metal half-disk, after all. But not lately. Now it was a part of their lovemaking, every time, and Severus couldn't seem to get enough of touching it, or gently sucking on the nipple that bore it. The sensations were like to drive Harry mad. More and more, attention paid to that part of his body sent waves of need jolting straight down to his cock. 

"Suits me?" gasped Harry, a little confused by the sound of that, even through the pleasure coursing into his cock. "How can it-- I thought you didn't want a slave--" 

"I don't. But I want you. I want you _mine_ ," growled Severus, shoving Harry over towards the bed. "All mine. Nobody else's." 

Harry gasped, the sound of that reaching deep down inside him, tugging on something. 

There wasn't a blowjob, after all, let alone a massage. Snape pushed them both onto the bed, then rolled over onto his back and dragged Harry atop him, kissing him fiercely as his hands roamed over shoulders and hips and thighs. Harry started grinding by instinct alone, his hips thrusting. 

"Trousers off," rasped Snape, his voice so rough it almost had a physical presence. "Everything off." 

"You too," said Harry, and for a moment there was no sound in the room except the crackling of the fire and the rustling of clothing being hastily yanked off and discarded. 

Naked, they reached for each other, side by side on the bed that time, a small clay pot of thick oil appearing from nowhere as they thrust against each other. Severus reached for the pot first, and smeared lube all over both their cocks. Then, arms wrapped securely around Harry, he began thrusting against him, his rhythm firm and steady. Controlled. 

Each stroke exactly like the last. 

It drove Harry wild. He bucked, trying to increase the tempo, silently demanding _more, faster, I need you,_ but Severus just kept on with his slow, methodical rhythm, until Harry's cock was weeping with need, and his eyes were watering with the force of wanting something so fiercely, and for so long. 

Desperate, Harry arched his jaws and bit Severus at the base of his throat . 

Severus only chuckled, darkly, and kept up the same maddening thrusting, but when Harry yelped with frustration and bit him again, he moved one hand to wrap his thumb and forefingers around Harry's chin, and pushed his face back a few inches. "No more of that," he said, his voice rasping. "You'll come when I please." 

With that, he turned Harry's face to the side, forcibly pressing Harry's cheek against the taut, lean muscles padding his chest. 

Severus had never been quite this demanding in bed, this controlling, this _dominant_. Not since before the invocation, and even then, Harry had almost always been in charge when they'd made love. He wasn't in charge now, but everything was so good, so heated and slick and aching, that he couldn't possibly object. He didn't even want to bite Severus, again. He just wanted to come. 

"God," Harry gasped out, grabbing handfuls of Severus' hair, thrusting frantically, his hips rolling forward and back twice to Severus' every once. He felt like electrical jolts were running through his lower body, making it impossible to stop. "Now, Severus, gimme, I need--" 

Arching his body, then yanking Harry's face back toward his own, Severus crushed their mouths together in a kiss so fierce that it actually hurt Harry's lips, and finally, gave him what he wanted. Hot, hard thrusts that sent him tumbling over the edge into an abyss. Harry fell hard and fast. He fell like he'd never stop. 

He screamed with the force of his orgasm, actually screamed, but Severus devoured the sound with his mouth, and came too, holding Harry tightly against him. 

"Wow," said Harry when it was all over. "Oh, my God. That's it, you know. It can't possibly get any better than that." 

Beside him on the bed, Severus chuckled. "Oh, but it will. It will only get better and better the more often we make love." 

"Practice makes perfect?" 

"Something like that." 

Harry snuggled into Severus' arms and watched the fire, his hands stroking the bedcovers. "These are really nice. And no wet spot. Great room, this is. We have to come here more often." 

"I didn't actually bring you here for sex. I thought we'd need the evening to work on your magic." 

The reminder that their powers had some ways to go yet might have depressed Harry, except for the fact that the sex was so good. So how could he object to more of it, if that was what it took? "We _were_ working on my magic," he said, snuggling down. "Sex magic. Mmm. Brilliant." 

Harry yawned, starting to drop off, but the sizzle of a spell around him jolted him awake. Oh, just cleaning charms. As Severus lowered his wand, Harry relaxed into the bed again. 

"No, none of that," said Severus. "Come along. Home, I think." 

"Yeah, home. All right." Harry started dragging on his clothes, making a right mess of it, he was so boneless and exhausted. Being in charge when they had sex, that was always better than good, but Severus in charge was even better, he was thinking. He'd never come quite like that, feeling like his heart would stop, feeling like he'd die on the spot and die happy. 

Severus did little more than gather his own clothes into a bundle. "Just come through the Floo as you are." 

"Floo?" 

"Albus arranged a connection for us. Just for us." Frowning slightly, Severus closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate on something. The bed flickered out of existence. "Best not to be distracted the next time we come, I think." 

"Oh, the room'll return to its previous state if you floo up instead of pacing the hall outside? Er . . . what if someone's already in here?" 

"I should think the Floo would decline to let us in. We'd probably remain in my own hearth." 

"Either that or we'd end up in the headmaster's office," said Harry, laughing a little as he realised he was wearing shoes without socks. "Seems like kind of thing the Floo would do to me." 

"Best to be fully dressed when we come up, then." 

Severus said that in a sardonic tone, but the comment still bothered Harry a little. "You . . . you don't want him to know how we're doing? When I asked if he knew about the pitch, I really meant if you'd told him about--" He waved a hand. "Us." 

No smile in evidence, not now. "If you want to tell him, by all means do so." 

"I can't tell him anything!" exclaimed Harry. "The contract would have my head!" 

A raised eyebrow was the only change in Severus' expression. "Just what did you want to tell him? Not intimate details, I would think." 

Harry felt himself flushing, just slightly, as he imagined telling Dumbledore any of those. "Er . . . no, but I was pretty angry with him for a long time, you know. Over how he didn't help me get out of _Podentes._ Not that he could have, but I was angry anyway. And he knew it, I'm sure. I just thought he ought to know that it's working out. That I'm happy." 

"In other words, you'd like to assure him in general terms that all is well," said Severus dryly. "I can't imagine why the contract would concern you." 

Harry spotted a sock and scooped it up, then sat down to take off his shoe. It gave him a moment to think. Severus was right about the contract, so why did Harry still feel that same hesitation about talking to the headmaster. "Um, I guess I just wished you would be the one to tell him anything to do with sex, you know?" 

Severus knelt down on the floor, just in front of Harry, and held up another sock. He smoothed it onto Harry's foot as he talked. "Albus knows we're having sex, I'm certain. He won't fail to mistake what that burst of speed on the Quidditch pitch means. And he saw you at the invocation, feeling pleasure at my hand. He knows we're . . . compatible." 

"I know, I just wanted to make sure he knows that it's all right with me, now." 

Severus' voice was very gentle. "Then tell him that." 

Harry made a half-gasping noise. He knew he was being stupid, but he couldn't help it. "But then he'll know for sure that we're having sex. I can't tell him a thing like that!" 

"Harry, the man has sex himself, you realise." 

Harry glanced up, startled. "You think?" 

"Of course!" 

Oh, God, Harry could hardly imagine it. Even trying made him feel sort of squirmy. "But he's old enough to be a grandfather! Or in his case, I mean, a great-great--" 

"So?" Severus leered at him, actually leered. Which broke the tension and made Harry laugh, actually. "I plan to be having sex with you long past my dotage. Come on, let's go home. You can figure out what to tell Albus in your own good time." 

Good thinking, Harry decided as he slipped his shoes back on. He didn't bother fastening them. "Er . . . so if Albus has sex, who do you think . . . er, Minerva?" He tried to imagine McGonagall naked and failed completely. It just couldn't be done. 

"I think that's his business." 

Harry swallowed, nodding, and looked doubtfully at the Floo. "Er . . . I really do hate that thing. Do you mind if I walk down?" 

"Lace your shoes," was all Severus said. A moment later, he vanished in a flash of green fire. 

Harry stepped into the corridor, turning in the direction of the headmaster's office, but then decided against it. He really should figure out first how to put things. He didn't want to use the blurt method in front of the headmaster. 

Just as well he'd headed back toward Severus' upstairs rooms, Harry decided a few moments later. For whom should he meet, sneaking from the kitchens, his hands stuffed with pastries, but Charles Bole? 

"A week's detention with Mr Filch," said Harry, waving his wand to banish the food. "It's past curfew, Bole. What a poor Slytherin you make. No stealth at all." 

_That_ got to him, Harry saw. Perhaps worse than anything that had gone before. The boy's face went red, his whole body tensing. 

"And five more points from Slytherin," added Harry. "Though you hardly qualify as one, getting caught so easily. I wasn't even looking for students out breaking rules." 

"You--" Bole flushed redder still, his anger boiling over into his eyes. "I--" 

He was too cagey to say the rest, but Harry read the truth in his eyes. "You what, Bole? You _hate_ me?" 

Laughing darkly, Harry leaned down closer to the boy, and spoke in tones low enough that the portraits couldn't hear. "That's fine, Bole. Just fine. I'm not very fond of you, either." The longer he vented his anger, the more it seemed to grow. "Now go. _Now."_ Harry waited until the child was halfway down the corridor before calling out the rest. "And that's an additional week of detention for failing to call me _sir_." 

  
  
  
  


Composition of Snape's wand: I don't think we have been told this in canon. Perhaps we'll find out for certain in Book 7. The idea I used here came from courtesy of her article located at http://www.half-bloodprince.org/snape_wand.php 

  
  
  
  



	33. Chapter 33

  
  
  
  


**Friday, October 22, 1998 ---- 5:15 p.m.**

"Everything went well with Bryerson's classes?" 

Harry continued taking off the brown teaching robe he always wore to Defence. "Yeah, fine. You asked me that at lunch, too. What's the matter, you think I don't know the material through fourth year?" 

"One would hope you know the material far beyond that." 

"Defence was always my best subject of all," said Harry, sighing as he turned to face Severus. "Look, I know you mean well but I want you to stop asking that. It sounds like you think I'm incompetent." 

"Incompetent and thrown into the deep end are rather different things," said Severus dryly. "And I do know what the latter can be like. I was scarcely more prepared than you when I began teaching." 

"But Potions was your favourite thing, right?" 

Severus inclined his head. 

"That's Defence for me. And I've had a good teacher to watch up close, and I'm only handling the easier levels of the subject. _And_ I did teach before, you know, in D.A. So . . ." Harry sighed again. "Just have a little faith in me, Severus." 

Realising that his concern was being taken for something else entirely, Severus briskly nodded. "Fine. Just know that you can come to me if you--" He broke off when it occurred to him--because of the look on Harry's face, probably--that he was likely the last person Harry would come to for help with his teaching duties. "Fine." 

Harry didn't say what he'd obviously been thinking. Instead, it seemed like he wanted to get completely away from the subject. He turned back to the robe he'd draped across a chair. The cleaning charm he started casting on it wasn't his best bit of magic, Severus noted. 

"So, then. When are we leaving for Spain?" 

Severus sat down on the edge of the bed. "What would make you think we're going to Spain?" 

"Cologne, right? Today on my free period I went to the library and had a chat with the talking card catalogue. Colón, Cristobal, commissioned by the Spanish to find a new route to India, except he found the New World. They named a city after him, I guess? Oh. But he was Italian, right. So we're going to Italy again?" 

"Irma needs to respell her catalogue for multiple meanings. Cologne is a city in Germany. No relation to Columbus." 

"Oh. Germany." Harry didn't sound terribly excited at the prospect. It seemed his mind was still on the robe. He was shaking it out, now, using his hand to brush off bits of lint that had persisted through his earlier efforts. 

"Do you always take such care with it?" asked Severus, curious. 

As if suddenly realising what he'd been doing, Harry hurriedly hung the robe on a hook inside the wardrobe. "I . . . oh, what's the use? If I say 'no,' you'll know that answer's really 'yes.'" 

"I wasn't trying to pry. But why wouldn't you just answer 'yes,' in any case?" 

"That's not prying?" 

Severus waved a hand. "Never mind." 

Harry chuckled a little as he sat down alongside him. "I never thought you'd be so easy to get on with, Severus." 

"Easy, am I?" 

"Don't worry. I won't tell the students." Smiling then, Harry lifted his shoulders a little. "I guess it doesn't matter if you know how much I like that particular robe. I'm trying to make sure it lasts, you know?" 

"It's just a robe." 

Harry nodded, but Severus noticed that the young man's Adam's apple bobbed a little bit. "Yeah. Of course. It's just . . . well, you know a bit about my home life. So now, when somebody gives me something, I try to take care of it." His nostrils flared. "I'm still annoyed over what happened to the knife I got from Sirius." 

Severus didn't know if he meant the way the knife had been damaged, or if Harry was referring to his belief that Draco Malfoy had stolen it. He did know that he didn't want to talk about an old knife of Black's. Once had been enough. "You aren't so careful with all your clothes, are you? They were gifts as well." 

Harry met his eyes, the look in his own a little rueful. "Yeah, but even so, the ones from Norway you sort of had to buy, you know? The robe was different." 

"For your birthday." 

Harry smiled. "I meant something else. The stuff you bought me in wizarding Strasgard was all in Slytherin colours, right? I mean, I was afraid you were going to pretend I was one, or something. But then you gave me the teaching robe. You made sure I wouldn't have to look like a Slytherin in front of all my old mates. And I really liked that. As much as the robe itself." 

Severus almost chuckled. _Pretend Harry was a Slytherin? Harry. _"I doubt I could ever think of you as anything but a Gryffindor, Harry, no matter what you wear. I bought what I did in Strasgard because you looked quite well in greys and greens." 

Harry stared a little. "Even though I had completely different looks at the time." 

"I could look at you and still see you." 

The moment he'd said it, Severus felt uncomfortable. What if Harry guessed that as far back as their first trip to Norway, Severus had already been in over his head? Trying to distance himself from the feeling that he was in danger of giving himself away, Severus swept his gaze over the contents of Harry's wardrobe. "You have access to sufficient funds, yet you've never purchased any more clothing, it seems. Why is that?" 

"I . . . hmm, I'm not sure. I didn't really think about it. I guess after you made such a point of purchasing everything I would wear, right down to my pants, I figured all the rest of my clothes had better come from you. Hedwig's cage seemed different." Harry shrugged. "Besides, I haven't really needed anything." 

"Some of your shirts are getting a little tight through the shoulders," murmured Severus. He wanted to offer to purchase more during their weekend away, but that wasn't practical, not considering that Harry would be Polyjuiced in public. Besides, it was better for Harry to understand that he could buy his own clothes. "You should probably see to it the next time you're in Hogsmeade." 

"Not in Cologne?" A moment later, Harry was nodding. "Oh, right. The Polyjuice." 

More proof, as if Severus needed it these days, that there was nothing whatsoever wrong with Harry's critical thinking capacity. Really, he should have been able to become quite a good brewer. But of course, no one who detested the discipline could really become truly skilled at it. 

Severus sighed inwardly. He generally wasn't much given to regrets, but in this case he couldn't seem to stop himself. His treatment of Harry wasn't something he could simply consign to the past. It was still alive and well, and standing between them. Those years of ridicule were making Harry hear criticism of his teaching now, when Severus intended only support. And interest. 

"If we're going to keep travelling, you really should do something about the taste of that stuff," said Harry. 

_That_ , Severus knew, almost certainly couldn't be done, but he didn't feel like pointing out Harry's poor grasp of potion construction. "We can put that all behind us once you defeat the Dark Lord." 

"Right. We can be our usual selves in Disneyland. Or world. Whichever one's--" 

"In Florida, yes. I haven't forgotten." 

Harry rubbed his hands together. "I can't wait. All the more reason to get our powers crossing, eh?" 

"Yes, I never would have imagined that the ultimate reward for vanquishing evil would be a trip to a Muggle wonderland." 

"You'll love it," said Harry, the words sounding like a promise. And perhaps it was. "We'll spend plenty of time in those swamps so you can collect loads of bugs and weeds and such. But enough of that. Let's talk about Germany. I never thought of going there, before. Er . . . is there anything to do?" 

_Is there anything to do._ Severus nearly scoffed out loud. "Of course there is." 

"Like what?" 

Too good an opportunity to pass up, thought Severus. "Whatever I say," he said, deliberately deepening his voice. He knew what that low, husky tone always did to Harry. 

Harry dropped to sit on the bed beside Severus, his green eyes darkening with desire. "Mmm, sounds brilliant. Um, you said we'd stay there all weekend? So I'll pack a few things?" 

"No need." 

Harry blinked, and then looked, perhaps, just the tiniest bit flattered. "Oh. Is that what you were talking about in the Room of Requirement? The new thing we're doing? Er . . . you plan to keep me naked the whole time?" 

The image that conjured! Harry, nude all weekend, working on the task Severus planned to set him . . . "An excellent notion," he purred. "I take it you'd be amenable?" 

"Maybe it's better if I'm not," murmured Harry, biting his lip a little. "What if I didn't want to do it, but I did because you said to . . . would that help us cross powers faster? Since it would be kind of a way to build some extra obedience in?" 

The prospect of keeping Harry naked abruptly lost much of its appeal. "I've no interest in pressuring you into things, Harry." 

"I know that. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to keep me naked." He sent Severus an arch glance. 

Now Severus was the one who felt flattered, even as he admitted, "I've already packed for us both." 

"Oh. Well, that works, too." Harry grinned. "By the way, I really do want to know what you have in mind for our weekend abroad." 

"I told you not to ask me that." 

"And I haven't asked, have I? Not once." 

When Harry laughed, Severus thought, not for the first time, how good it was to see him so happy. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, October 22, 1998 ---- 6:17 p.m.**

Severus pulled the champagne bottle out of the ice bucket, wincing a little at the way it dripped. A quick drying charm took care of that, though. A little magic in the privacy of the hotel room would do no harm, though of course it was out of the question to use any when they were out and about in the city. 

In fact, only Albus knew that he and Harry were in Cologne. Nobody else would be able to so much as track their route. He and Harry had flooed to Paris and from there to Cologne. By the time they arrived in Germany there would be no reason to suppose them anything but continental European wizards, particularly if Severus did all the talking. 

But still, Severus had decided he would feel more secure if no-one about realised they were wizards at all. It had been different before, when he and Harry had gone on day trips to Paris or Rome or Venice. This time, they would be sleeping in Germany for two nights, and wizarding hotels often had quite clever spells in place designed to identify travellers. 

With that in mind, Severus had left the wizarding district at once. Best to lodge in a Muggle hotel, he'd decided. He'd booked ahead the Muggle way, though it had been quite a bother to get to a phone box and wait through the interminable clicks and pauses as his call was put through. Owls were much preferable, in his view. 

Once in Muggle Cologne, he and Harry had walked a few blocks, the better to become lost amid the throngs of Muggles. The hotel wasn't far and they could easily have gone there on foot, but it was a bit awkward carrying their bags the whole way. Besides, the body Severus was currently wearing was far from fit. He was breathing heavily already. 

Severus headed toward a taxi stand on Venloer Strasse, then shrugged at Harry's obvious amazement. "Perhaps I did learn one or two useful things from my father." 

Harry didn't reply until they were in the taxi and on their way, and even then, his voice sounded very careful. Well, the one time they'd discussed Tobias Snape at any length, Severus had made it clear he'd rather _not_ discuss him, ever. "I thought you didn't spend much time with him." 

"Summer after my fifth year," said Severus, the words clipped. 

When abroad, Harry's eyes were usually wide, his attention riveted on the cityscape all around. But now, he wasn't even looking out the taxi window. His gaze was fixed on Severus. "Oh, right. You said that that was when he . . ." 

Harry made a vague gesture and said nothing more, but Severus knew he was thinking about the scars on Severus' back and chest. He'd learned from last time, though. Clearly, Harry wasn't going to ask anything about them. 

For several seconds, that suited Severus perfectly. There were subjects he'd prefer not to discuss, and that was certainly one of them. 

Harry turned away, his profile looking as though it was set in stone, though of course it wasn't _Harry's_ profile at all. They were both still under the influence of Polyjuice. But he knew Harry well enough to register this slight withdrawal, all the same. 

And that was when Severus realised something that should have been obvious long before. He didn't want the two of them to be strangers sharing quarters, or even two men sharing a bed, with all that implied. He wanted to know Harry, every inch of him, inside and out. Severus had been aware of that for some while, of course. 

But now, there was more to it. He wanted Harry to know him, just as well. 

Because otherwise, they _were_ just sharing a bed. Severus wanted to share more than that. A good deal more. 

And Harry wanted it as well, he thought. Or had, once. He'd said that he didn't know a lot about being someone's lover, but he thought it meant more than just having sex. He'd been right about that. 

"Yes, that was when my father lost his temper, as you know," said Severus, shrugging slightly. The story was difficult for him, even now, but he liked the way Harry turned back towards him, as if an invisible wall that had briefly gone up was now dissolving. "We probably shouldn't discuss the matter here, but once we're alone I'll tell you what happened." 

At that, Harry looked gobsmacked. "You will?" 

Severus nodded. 

"I wasn't asking. I mean, I figured out I'd better never bring it up again--" 

"Harry," said Severus quietly. "It's all right. I think I'd like you to know." 

Now, standing by a small table in a suite in the Hotel im Wasserturm, Severus wondered how to begin. He poured champagne into two flutes while he considered the matter. 

"You don't have to," said Harry, taking his glass from Severus' hand. 

"But you're wondering something," said Severus dryly. "I can see it in your eyes." 

"In these blue eyes, you mean." Harry raised a hand and ran it through the short red hair atop his head. 

"I can still tell that you're wondering something." 

Harry more or less flopped onto a brocade-covered sofa. "You're sure you're all right with me asking? 'Cause I don't have to know. I got used to that idea a long time ago." 

Severus sat down too, in a chair alongside. The body he was wearing at present didn't feel right, not even after he adjusted his position to compensate for his increased girth and the rolls of fat spilling over the waistband of his trousers. "Ask." 

"Well, since you say to," said Harry, evidently in some effort at jesting. "Um . . . you know, when you first told me that your father had . . . er, whipped you, I guess, I assumed he was a wizard. But ever since I found out he was a Muggle I've been wondering how he could have got away with a thing like that. You'd been at Hogwarts for years, by then. Couldn't you have cast something to defend yourself?" 

"No, actually." 

Harry blinked. "Oh. He got your wand away from you, the same as Uncle Vernon did to me, that time?" 

"He confiscated mine the moment we walked through his front door," said Severus, the memory still a bitter one. 

"Yeah, that was usually the story for me, too." Harry sighed. "Every damned summer. It's kind of a miracle I don't hate Muggles, if you ask me. No wonder you joined the . . . never mind." 

"I had more reason for that than merely hating my father. Though I suppose that what he did to me that summer didn't help matters any." 

Harry cocked his head. "Why did you go to stay with him?" 

"I wasn't given much of a choice." 

"Oh." 

The way Harry said that, the syllable clipped, made Severus realise that his answer had been somewhat evasive. "My mother insisted, I meant to say." 

Harry opened his mouth, but then he shut it again, and looked away. 

" _Ask_." When Harry didn't, Severus sighed. "I shouldn't have been so harsh when we were playing our questions game, Harry. We're lovers. For life. We're committed to one another, now. If you want to know something about me, _ask._ " 

"Yeah, well just don't forget that you said to, all right?" 

"I won't!" 

Harry shifted in his seat. "Well, crap. If you're cross over it already, then maybe we should just forget the whole thing!" 

"Maybe you should bloody well ask!" 

Harry sucked in a breath and blurted his question out. "From what I saw that time I made it into your mind, your father treated your mother like shite, so why would she insist you go stay with _him_ , of all people?" 

Ah. No wonder Harry had been reluctant to ask his question. Severus didn't like to be reminded of their early Occlumency lessons. Too much had gone wrong. For both of them. 

Still, the question was a very good one. "Perhaps I should back up a bit," Severus said smoothly, trying to prove that he didn't mind the question. "As you may have surmised, my mother was a pureblood who ignored her family's advice on marriage, to her regret. Tobias Snape turned out to be a rather petty sort of man, and the marriage lasted only a few years. She returned to her family and took me with her. As I told you, I rarely saw my father after that." 

Harry nodded, saying nothing, though he did gulp his champagne. Severus wondered if he was thinking about how he'd missed his own father, growing up. 

"However, after I'd completed my O.W.L. year, my mother became concerned about some of my associations. I'm certain you can imagine which ones." Severus paused until Harry nodded again. "She thought it best I spend some weeks that summer with my father, far removed from my friends who were fast becoming ardent supporters of the Dark Lord." 

"I get the Death Eater thing," Harry said shortly. "But God, Severus. Why send you to _him?_ " 

"She didn't expect him to beat me. I'm quite sure of that." The rest came out slowly, as it was harder to admit. He'd been so foolish. So easily manipulated. "She saw what I did not, that it would be a coup for Lucius Malfoy if he could recruit me to the Dark Lord's ranks. Even then, my skill at potions was evident. She saw that I was being courted." 

Harry sputtered a bit on his wine. 

"Not _that_ kind of courted." These memories weren't fond ones by any means, but Harry's reaction still brought a small smile to Severus' face. "At any rate, she urged my father to allow me to stay with him for a few weeks. Nobody would be likely to pursue me there, and I would have some time away from Malfoy's influence. Time to come to my senses, she no doubt thought it. Actually, I suspect that she hoped that I might see some value in my Muggle heritage." Severus shrugged. 

Harry hesitated, but not as much as before. "Did you?" 

Another shrug. "I suppose the telly was interesting at first. But then my father and I had a disagreement." 

"He wanted you to leave Hogwarts, you said, back when I first asked about your scars." 

"Yes. He thought it high time that I pursue a trade. He wasn't an educated man himself, you understand. No son of his was going to sit in classes after he was old enough to be gainfully employed." 

Harry sat up straighter and put his champagne flute down with a slight thump. "That wasn't his business, though. I mean, you usually lived with your mother's family. And it's not like they needed the money--" 

"Oh, but my grandfather's family could have used the money," Severus quietly interrupted. "Although we weren't in desperate straits, certainly. To outsiders it appeared that we lived comfortably enough. We had heirlooms in our home that spoke of wealth. In reality, however, the Prince family had been coming down in the world for generations. An extra income would have been most useful, and Tobias knew it." 

"So you told him you wouldn't leave school, and he whipped you for it?" 

"Whipped is a bit of an overstatement," Severus corrected. "He used a switch." 

"Like that makes it better, Severus!" 

"You mind the scars so much?" 

"You know I don't!" 

That was true; Severus did know it. He supposed he'd just wanted to hear it said. 

Harry's eyes had narrowed. "Did that bastard--" 

"You shouldn't call my father a bastard even if he was one. You wouldn't like me to insult James, after all." 

"Point taken," muttered Harry. "Sorry. Er . . . I was going to ask why he let you scar like that. I mean, would a switch really leave such permanent marks? And I don't mind them, all right? I'm just asking. Didn't he give you any cream, afterwards?" 

Severus' smile was very thin. "Oh, he did. I flushed the entire tube down the loo." 

Harry gaped. "The _tube?_ Or did you mean you squeezed it out?" 

"I flushed it tube and all. Stopped up the plumbing. To this day I can still hear my father cursing about the expense." 

Harry stifled a laugh. "That was very bad of you, Severus." 

"He deserved it." 

"Yeah, he did. But . . . um, didn't you use any of the cream before you flushed it?" 

"No." 

"That was stupid." 

Severus leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Teenagers often are." 

"Yeah, but throwing away something that would help you?" 

Severus opened one eye. "How did I know it would help me? It was a Muggle cream. I assumed it would be worse than useless. A sop to his guilt, nothing more." 

"Muggle medicines aren't completely worthless!" 

"Had I been Muggle-raised, I might have known that." Severus gave a long sigh. "At any rate, I was with my father for some weeks longer, that summer. We didn't talk much beyond _pass the salt._ The welts he'd caused became more painful rather than less, but I didn't tell him that. It wasn't until I got home again that anyone realised they'd become seriously infected. My mother did what she could but by then it was too late to heal them entirely. Hence the scars." 

"They aren't that bad. I mean, you'd hardly notice if you only had one or two. It's just that there are so many." Harry paused for a moment. "Um . . . have you ever seen him since?" 

That time, Severus' smile was tight. "No. And before you ask, he's dead now. They all are. My grandfather's house was sold for debts, though a few family heirlooms came down to me. You've seen them. The furniture and silver and such in my quarters. I also inherited my father's house, but it's not a place I much care for, all things considered." 

"If I inherited the house on Privet Drive--ha, can't imagine it, but if I did--I'd sell it in a flash." 

"I kept the house on Spinner's End in the belief that a Muggle bolt-hole might prove of use, someday." 

"Oh." Harry's expression brightened, though it looked a bit forced. "Well, we'll just have to make sure that you'll have no need of it, right? So, where's the bedroom? Time to work on crossing our powers more, you know!" 

"You don't need to, you know." 

"Cross our powers?" 

"Cheer me up with sex, Harry." 

Harry looked him up and down. "Oh. Well, that's a big relief. You look awful like that. I'd much rather wait until the Polyjuice wears off." 

Severus lumbered to his feet. "We'll have dinner here in the suite, I think. Will that suit you? I'll ring for room service." 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, October 22, 1998 ---- 6:52 p.m.**

Harry put down his fork and knife and leaned back, patting his stomach. "That was really good. Though who would have thought we'd get French food here, eh?" 

"Beef au jus is the specialty of the hotel." 

"Yeah, but we're in Germany! I thought it'd be knackwurst and sauerkraut at every meal, you know?" Harry made a face. "Not that I'm asking for that. Aunt Petunia served sauerkraut a few times, and it was . . . well, it was just nasty." 

"Most likely tinned, then. We'll get some fresh tomorrow and see what you think of sauerkraut when it's properly prepared and served." 

"You think I'll want to eat tomorrow?" Harry shook his head. "After that meal I think I'm set for about a week. You sure do know how to pick a hotel. When I first saw it I thought it was really weird-looking, though. Like a circular factory or something." 

"It was a water tower. Once the largest in Europe, in fact." 

"Did you pick it for that or for the menu?" asked Harry, laughing at the idea of staying inside a water tower, of all things. 

"Actually, I chose it because the bar in the lobby is called 'Harry's Lounge,'" said Severus, deadpan. 

"Oh, it is not." 

"We'll have a drink there tomorrow." 

"Didn't I just mention I'd still be full?" 

"Now that _is_ a pity seeing as a lovely dessert is waiting." Severus laconically waved a hand toward the silver domed dish still waiting on the serving tray. He looked a lot better now that he was back to his usual appearance. Though seeing him change back had been a bit amusing. The minute Severus had hung up the phone, it had begun. The large-sized trousers he'd been wearing had slipped off as his hips had grown lean, and then his pants had fallen, as well. Severus had been left standing in an overwide, too-short shirt, with the rest of his clothes puddled around his ankles. 

The look was ridiculous, but not what it put so prominently on display. Severus' long, large cock, swaying lightly beneath the hem of the shirt. 

Harry might have suggested they skip dinner and go straight to bed, except that he'd just changed back too, and Polyjuice always left him feeling shaky and disoriented. Better to eat, yes. Even now, after some time to rest and relax over the meal, he still felt a bit woozy. "Maybe just a bite of dessert, after all," he murmured, reaching over to lift the cover off the dish. "Mmm. Looks like a fancy chocolate cake in caramel sauce." 

When Harry started to slice it, Severus shook his head. "Just the one plate." 

Harry knew what that meant--Severus rarely ate much dessert, after all--but he couldn't resist a little tease. "Oooh, sharing a plate. We can feed each other." 

"Feed me caramel and you'll live to regret it," said Severus. "I can't abide such cloying flavours." 

Harry served himself extra sauce on the small wedge of cake he'd taken, but when he lifted a bite to his mouth and savoured the syrupy sweet taste coating his tongue, he couldn't help but frown slightly. Severus didn't like caramel? Something about that was off, wasn't it . . . 

"The present I got you from Honeydukes!" he exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "You mean you didn't like the caramel-filled chocolates?" 

The look on Severus' face was answer enough. 

"You never even _tried_ one?" 

Severus glanced away from him. 

"You might have told me," said Harry. It wasn't so important in the scheme of things, whether Severus had liked the chocolates or not. What bothered him more was the fact that Severus had never said anything about hating caramel. 

"It was almost your first day as my slave and I was doing everything I could to put you at ease," said Severus softly, coming over to his chair. Kneeling down, he looked Harry in the eyes. "You were a nervous wreck, for reasons I understand better now than I did then. At the time, I thought it best not to say things you might find upsetting." 

When Harry didn't reply, Severus seemed to reach some kind of frustration point. "I wanted us to get on!" 

"We do get on," said Harry, leaning over to kiss him softly. "I know you think I'm young, and immature at times, maybe--" 

"Maybe?" 

"Oh, shut it. The point is, I'm not such a prat that I can't handle learning that I chose the wrong gift for you. But . . . I guess I can appreciate that you wanted so much for us to start off on the right note. And considering we're talking _you_ , I can only imagine what it took for you to hold your tongue. Did you have to bite it clean off?" 

Severus smiled. "I thought I did well, considering how much I detest caramel." 

"Maybe sweets were a bad idea, but at least I did all right with the book." 

"You're certain you can handle learning that you chose the wrong gift, are you?" 

"Oh, no." Harry gulped. "Don't tell me. You didn't like the book, either?" 

"Ebeneezer Erikson is an imbecile, through and through." 

Harry reared back a little. "But- but I thought you'd find his ideas so interesting! An entirely new theory of potion making? How could you not like that?" 

Severus gave him a superior look. "Because it's an entirely brainless theory. I'm surprised the man didn't publish his drivel as a cookery book, instead. Consult the _Potions Quarterly_ that was published last March and you'll see what I mean. Erikson's book was most thoroughly discredited." 

Harry grinned a little slyly, feeling on firmer ground. "Oh, please. What was it that you always used to say about secondary sources? That we shouldn't _rely on some editorial hack to tell us what to think,_ right? Why don't you read the book for yourself before you decide it's so worthless, eh?" 

"Why don't you read the _Quarterly_ I mentioned and see just which editorial hack reviewed that tripe masquerading as a text, _eh?_ Letters to the editor section." 

"Oh." Harry could feel himself blushing. 

"Yes, _oh_." 

At that, Harry clutched his stomach, he started laughing so hard. "Oh, God. I got you sweets you detest _and_ a book you hated so much that you'd already written in complaining about it?" 

"We Potions Masters expect a certain level of expertise in any approach to the subject. It was my responsibility as a member of the profession to expose that charlatan publicly." 

"What did he write that was so unacceptable to you?"

"Let's just say that his new _theory_ basically boiled down to three words. Be the brew."

" _What?_ "

"You heard me." 

If Harry had been laughing hard before, now he was afraid he might never stop. And his stomach was actually hurting by then. _Be the brew?_

"He apparently believes potion-making to be something on the order of a religious experience," added Severus sourly. "It's really not very amusing."

It was to Harry, but another thought made him abruptly stop laughing. "Maybe this time I should just ask. Christmas is coming up, and then your birthday. What sorts of things would you like?" 

"I don't know." 

"Oh, that's real helpful. Thanks." 

"Albus often complains that I'm impossible to buy for." 

"No, he just complains that you're impossible." 

"Cheeky this evening, aren't you?" 

"Going to do something about it?" Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Say, I've got an idea. How about I cover myself in caramel and--" 

"Bedroom," ordered Severus, pointing. "Now. I'll expect you naked and on your knees, and not a drop of sauce anywhere, is that clear?" 

Harry scooped up a fingerful of chocolate and smeared it teasingly across his lips. "How about icing?" 

"How about obedience?" 

"Mmm, your wish is my command," murmured Harry, licking the icing off his own lips. "And vice-versa. Bedroom it is. Naked, kneeling . . . don't keep me waiting long." 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, October 22, 1998 ---- 7:11 p.m.**

True to his word, Harry was naked and on his knees when Severus went into the bedroom a moment later. He'd positioned himself in the middle of the large bed, his cock hanging down between his spread legs. It would have been quite a sensuous atmosphere--Harry had even dimmed the lights--if not for one thing. 

The telly was on. 

Worse, it was tuned to some programme filled with animated people behaving in very odd ways. Badly-drawn animated people, at that. They were speaking German, yet Harry was laughing at their antics. 

"Know a spot of German, do you?" quipped Severus as he looked for the switch that would shut off the Muggle device. Hmm. Things looked to be quite a bit more complex than the last time he'd seen a telly, but that was easily remedied. He pulled the electric plug out of the socket. 

"Hey!" Harry made a face. "I wanted to find out if Homer was ever going to lose all that weight!" 

"Homer." 

"Yeah. As far as I could figure out, he gained a bunch of weight on purpose so his company would have to let him work from home--" 

"Have to?" 

"It's an American cartoon." 

"And so inane that you can follow it in a foreign language. That should tell you something." Severus leaned down, close to Harry, and breathed the question against his ear. "You'd really rather watch a silly American programme than suck my cock?" 

Harry rocked back on his heels, a smile spreading across his face. Even better, words like that from Severus had his cock springing to attention. In less than ten seconds, it looked as stiff as a well-made wand. But still, he pretended to hesitate. "Well, let me think. Silly cartoon or sex with you. Hmm . . ." He tilted his head up and grinned. "I guess I'd rather suck your cock." 

"You guess, do you?" 

Harry patted the bed beside him. "Planning on joining me?" 

"Actually, I think I'd rather have you at my feet." Severus made a sharp motion with his index finger, indicating that Harry should kneel on the floor. 

"Ooh, right. You're taking charge." Harry slid off the bed and tilted his face up. "That was hot, last night in the Room of Requirement." 

"Oh, you liked that, did you?" drawled Severus, something deep inside him sparking with warmth and pleasure to hear that. It was like a long-denied desire began awakening, coming to life. Harry was his, after all. In every way. _Invoke the rite not just in name . . ._ And they had, and ever since, he had owned Harry, body and soul. Severus had ignored that as best he could. No choice, really, not after what had happened to Harry in London. But Harry was recovering from that, clearly. 

And now, hearing that Harry thought Severus taking charge had been _hot . . ._

Severus felt his breathing hitch. He was used to being the dominant partner when it came to sex, after all. It could hardly be otherwise, when most of his experiences had been with men he'd bought for an hour or a day. And the spell had unquestionably put him in command of Harry. A prospect he'd relished . . . though it was one he'd repressed almost from the first. Almost, but not quite. Now, memories of their earliest encounters rose up to tempt him. Harry, gasping under _Sensatus,_ practically a slave already, he was so in thrall to what Severus could do to him physically. 

And now that Harry was finally comfortable with him, with his place in Severus' life and in Severus' bed, it was time for Severus to take charge again. Full charge, pushing Harry past his limits. For both their benefits. 

He stroked his fingers through Harry's hair, tousling it as he spoke. "Oh, but last night was nothing new, you realise. We'd enjoyed frottage before. I merely made you wait a bit. Made you earn your release, as it were." Severus stilled his hand, tugging on Harry's hair then, just slightly. "Tonight you'll have to do more to earn it." 

Harry licked his lips. "What?" 

Severus had planned what to demand, of course, but he'd expected to make the entire weekend something of a game. Not now, though. He wanted to command, to dominate. It was a welcome relief to finally be able to assert himself in the bedroom. Having Harry lead . . . that had been enjoyable too, but Severus _was_ the older, more experienced man here. It had been something of a strain pretending he wasn't. Severus wanted to take charge. And he could, now that Harry wanted that as well. 

"You're going to suck me in," he said, his voice rasping over the words. Thank Merlin he had years and experience behind him, or the mere prospect might have him coming on the spot. As it was, he was painfully hard thinking about it. "All the way in, Harry. Every inch." 

Harry glanced up, his green eyes huge. "You're joking. I can't--" 

"Of course you can." Severus stroked both hands down the sides of Harry's face, almost as though positioning him already. "You will." 

"Oh, God." Harry made a gulping noise, and turned his face into one of Severus' palms. He kissed it, his tongue lingering a bit. When he spoke, his voice was warm and moist against Severus' skin. "I . . . I don't think you know how much I want to. Well, of course you know how much, I did kind of babble on about it during the invocation, but don't you understand? I've tried, I really have, and I _can't_ , you're too huge, and--" 

If anything, that last bit just made Severus all the harder. What man didn't want to hear such things, after all? It came to Severus in a rush of warmth that Harry truly was a very satisfactory lover, in every way. At the same time, it was clear that that he had to make this good for Harry, who had clearly fantasised about giving Severus a proper blow job. Severus had to be sure the experience lived up to those fantasies. 

But that desire didn't conflict at all with the urge he was still feeling to dominate. It was as if the two were blended into just one thing, as if they weren't contradictory in the slightest. But of course, they weren't. He'd explained it to Harry all those months ago, that taking on a slave meant protecting and supporting that slave just as much as it meant commanding him. Only now did Severus feel as though he were learning that lesson in earnest. He hadn't ever let himself give orders, not truly. 

But now, Harry was ready. 

"Shh," said Severus, tracing Harry's lips with a fingertip. "You trust me, yes? You want this. Just do as I say, and we can make it happen." 

Harry gulped again, but then he nodded. "If you . . . yeah, all right. But it had damned well better make our powers cross more, since I'm pretty sure I'm about to choke. Er . . . you really want it though, right? So that should work." 

"Oh, I want it," murmured Severus. "You can't imagine how much." 

Harry looked down at Severus' crotch. "I can imagine how much." 

"Come on, get on the bed." 

"I thought you wanted me here." 

"I think a massage is in order, first. And a strong drink. You're far too tense. This really isn't the problem you seem to think it is." 

"Ha. Nobody could get that thing all the way into their mouth." 

Severus decided he'd be better off not bringing up the men who had, since mention of prostitutes was bound to ruin their time together this weekend. As far as Severus was concerned, it was a honeymoon of sorts. 

As Harry climbed onto the bed, Severus went back into the sitting room to prepare him a drink from the small wet bar there. A Scotch and water on ice, he decided. 

Harry took off his glasses and then gulped down the drink like he thought it would give him Dutch courage. 

Definitely, Harry needed to relax. A long massage was in order. 

Severus shed his clothes, then strolled into the bathroom to see what sort of body lotion the hotel might have on hand. One drop on his finger told him that it was rich and smooth. It smelled of honey and melon. Just the thing for Harry, Severus decided. 

It was rather gratifying that when he went back into the bedroom, Harry's gaze was trained on Severus' jutting cock. He might be a touch apprehensive, but he did want this. 

Which was all to the good, since impulse to dominate or not, Severus truly didn't wish to force anything on Harry. Or force anything down his throat, as the case may be. 

"On your stomach, then," he said, moving to sit alongside Harry. "It's been too long since I gave you a proper massage. I do love touching you, you know. And I don't just mean your cock." 

"Yeah, I know," said Harry thickly. He pulled in a long breath as Severus dabbed lotion across his shoulder blades. "Oh. Mmm, that smells good. Nice and sweet. New brew? Hmm, but it doesn't feel magical . . ." 

Severus didn't answer that as he ground his palms into Harry's shoulders and began the massage in earnest. 

"Ah . . . oh, you do know what you're doing," moaned Harry after a few minutes. 

"Yes, I do," said Severus, the words laced with meaning. Harry seemed to miss it, but that was all right. 

"Feels so _good . . ._ " 

It felt that way to Severus also. Touching Harry always had been a potent pleasure. Well, not always, but ever since he'd known that Harry would be his, Severus could hardly get enough opportunities to touch him. 

So marvellous how they were getting on, now that Harry had recovered from his terrible experience at the beginning of summer. Or recovered enough to be sexual, finally. Severus didn't fool himself that Harry was completely over what had happened. He still couldn't even bear to feel Severus' weight on top of him; he didn't like any sensation that smacked of true helplessness. Whenever they lay on the bed to enjoy mutual blowjobs, they were either side by side or Harry was on top. 

Harry needed to feel that he could get away if he wished to. 

Severus put that thought from his mind. He couldn't deny that he wanted to top Harry, in every way, but since it was too soon . . . no point in dwelling on it. 

Especially since they were getting along in the bedroom in every other way. 

"Relaxed, now?" he asked, leaning down so that his breath would brush against the hair curling over Harry's ear. Nudging him to turn over, Severus kissed him deeply. Mmm, Harry tasted of the Scotch he'd drunk. A heady combination. 

"All of me 'cept my throat," said Harry when Severus pulled back. 

It wasn't really a joke, though Severus saw that Harry had meant him to take it that way. 

"You'll be fine." Severus reached for the wand he'd put down on the night table when he'd undressed. "It's possible to learn the technique without magic, of course, but I thought a spell would make things a bit easier for you." 

" _Sensatus?_ " 

"No, something to loosen your throat muscles." Tensing up, of course, was Harry's main difficulty when he tried to deepen a blowjob. 

"Is that why you didn't use a magic lotion, 'cause you were planning a spell and we have to be careful not to use too much magic? I mean, because _Podentes_ won't like us solving our sex problems that way?" 

"You're over-thinking everything again," said Severus softly. He briefly considered positions but decided that the one he'd settled on earlier really was best. "Back on the floor, Harry, on your knees. And lift your chin." 

Severus touched his wand, lightly brushing across Harry's Adam's apple, and whispered the incantation. It wasn't much of a spell, really. Just the barest suggestion that the muscles should relax. It wouldn't even work, except on a willing partner, but as far as Severus was concerned, that was all to the good. 

He didn't want to use anything resembling _Compulsio_ , or remind Harry in any way of that night when Severus had forced him to relax against his will. 

Harry obediently opened his mouth when Severus gently thrust his cock against his lips, and took Severus in. His hands came up as they usually did, his fingers wrapping themselves around the base of Severus' cock, massaging and caressing him there. 

_So warm and wet._ Severus loved the way Harry would suck on his cock, lightly licking the cockhead all over, even while it stayed inside his mouth. It wasn't an expert blowjob by any means. It wasn't practiced and nuanced and designed to drive Severus to the brink of desire, again and again. 

But for all that, it was better than any prostitute's efforts could be, because Harry's attentions were genuine. He was doing this because he wanted to. Because he enjoyed it, and they were lovers, and he wanted to please his lover. 

Severus allowed Harry to go at his own pace, pushing forward only gradually, just enough to hint that he would like more as soon as Harry was ready to try it. 

Harry moaned and opened his mouth wider, tilting his head back a little more, and shifted forward on his knees, just a little. 

_Ah . . ._ Severus drew in a sharp breath as he felt the tip of his cock slip a little way into Harry's throat. 

Almost immediately, Harry began sputtering slightly, twisting his body a little. 

Severus placed a hand on the back of his head. Not enough to hold him in place by force, just enough to steady him. "Shhh," he said, fingers carding through Harry's hair. "Stay relaxed. Yes, just like that. If you just tilt your head at a slightly different angle, you'll find that you can breathe perfectly well." 

Harry angled his head backwards, just a bit, and Severus felt a small jolt of pleasure run through his cock. 

Severus moved his hands down to Harry's shoulders as he felt him relaxing again. "More. All right with you?" 

He felt rather than saw any sign of Harry's agreement, but that was enough. Severus pushed forward again. Slowly, true, but also more insistently than before. Harry could take it, and more importantly, Harry _knew_ he could take it, now. 

And that made all the difference in the world. 

Harry took him in eagerly, his hands letting go of Severus' cock and coming around the back of the other man's thighs. Severus sighed in pleasure, not just at the feel of his cock slipping farther inside Harry's warm, moist mouth, but also at the trust he sensed radiating strongly from Harry. Usually he liked to hold Severus' cock in his hands, the better to control how deep Severus could go. 

But not now. 

Now, he was content to let Severus take charge, in this as well. 

"Harry," Severus gasped as he inched his hips forward again, taking things slow. Part of him wanted to plunge inside that throat, wanted to sink himself balls-deep on the next thrust, and then begin moving in and out, in and out . . . 

Severus wanted to _fuck_. 

Handjobs and blowjobs and frottage . . . well, Severus was hardly complaining about the amount and kinds of sex he'd enjoyed in the past week. But that didn't mean that it had been all he wanted. 

He wanted to fuck Harry's mouth, right now, and have his pleasure in a dazzling burst of hot, frantic thrusting into his handsome, fit, lover. He wanted that tight arse clenched around him, Harry groaning as Severus' cock connected with his prostate, again and again and again. He wanted to plunge inside Harry, plunge inside him so hard and fast that his balls made a slapping noise against Harry's arse. He wanted to arch his back and thrust his hips forward, his cock lodged so deep inside Harry that they became _one_. 

But Harry trusted him, and Severus wasn't about to betray that trust, not in any way. 

No matter how much he wanted to. 

He let Harry control the speed and tempo of the blowjob. Let Harry grow used to the sensation of Severus down his throat, to moving his head this way and that to catch breath around Severus' bulk. 

"Mmmmm . . ." That time it was Harry making noises, the sound a bit muffled and awkward, but so deeply meant and genuine that Severus felt drenched in pleasure. Not just physical pleasure, either. It went all the way through him, down to some deep place he didn't think about much, but that he'd known was there, ever since he'd woken up with Harry in his arms. 

His Harry. His, forever. 

Severus let loose a long, keening moan as he began to come, his cock fully lodged down Harry's throat. _Ah, good. Fuck, was that ever good._ It was incredible, how it felt to possess Harry that way, knowing Harry wanted it, knowing that Harry was _his_ and could never leave him, knowing that there would be no clink of gold afterwards to remind him that he wasn't truly wanted. 

He was truly wanted, now. 

Severus waited until his orgasm had faded completely and then pulled out, and at once hauled Harry to his feet and yanked him close to kiss him long and deep. Harry's cock, hard and insistent, pressed against his thigh, the young man thrusting in a steady rhythm. 

For all that, though, Harry clearly had more on his mind than his own need. 

"No fair," he said, pulling away to pout, his lower lip thrust out in a way that made Severus want to kiss him again. 

"Hmm?" Severus stepped back a little, but Harry stepped forward, crushing their bodies together again. 

"I wanted to taste you when you came. I like it. You taste really good." 

"Ah, but the feeling of coming while I'm thrust in deep, as far as I can go . . ." 

"Yeah, that's good," said Harry, licking his lips. "Really good. I should know. Um, think you could do something about me, now?" He made a vague gesture downward. 

"Now, when have I ever not taken care of you?" 

Severus meant more than sex when he asked that, but the moment the question left his lips he wanted to call it back. After all, he'd spent years being spiteful and cruel to Harry. 

If Harry was thinking of those years, he didn't let on. "Well, I'd tell you to get on your knees, then," he said, voice eager, actually bouncing on his heels. "But I'd rather you tell me what to do. You know, for the powers thing. And then the next time you want a blowjob you can cast that spell again, and I can take you in really deep, and--" 

"You're not going to need the spell again." 

"And what makes you so sure of that?" 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps the fact that it only lasts about two minutes to begin with? Everything you did after that was done by you alone." 

"That's . . ." Apparently at a loss for words for a moment, Harry poked Severus in the chest. "That's awfully sneaky!" 

Personally, Severus thought it rather clever. "You enjoyed yourself, didn't you?" 

"I'd like to enjoy myself quite a bit more--" 

Severus needed no further urging than that. "On the bed again, then," he said, dropping his voice to a deep purr. "On your back. Close your eyes. And while I suck you off, you're to pinch and caress your left nipple. Play with it. Tug on the ring a bit. I want to watch." 

"Kinky blighter, aren't you?" 

"I'd like to see you enjoying the fact that you're mine." 

"Oh, I enjoy it," said Harry, reaching up to kiss Severus once more. 

But then he got on the bed and did as he'd been told. 

  
  
  
  



	34. Chapter 34

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, October 24, 1998 ---- 8:13 p.m.**

Harry lay back in bed, smiling. Even smirking a little, perhaps. He couldn't help it. This had been far and away the best weekend he'd ever had. 

They'd spent all day Saturday as tourists in Cologne, seeing the sights. Well, after their morning in bed, that was. Harry had gone down on Severus again, and this time, he'd managed to deep-throat him without resorting to any magic. He'd nearly gagged more than once, but then he'd managed to get the knack of it again. Really, he thought he'd only had trouble before because he'd been a little nervous, wondering at first if he could get that large cock all the way in without a spell or anything to help him. 

But he had, and what was even better was that when he'd got the hang of it and had begun bobbing his head up and down as Severus had relaxed on the bed, the man's cock going smoothly down his throat, over and over, Severus had almost started babbling. 

Almost. 

Not quite. 

But Harry had thought for some time--hell, he'd started thinking it before the invocation, even--that he'd like to be able to make the man completely lose control. Sometimes Severus moaned during sex, but even then he sounded like he was restraining himself, holding back on how things really felt to him. Harry wanted Severus to shout at the moment of his climax instead of being so self-controlled. After all, Harry was often a mass of pleading, _very_ vocal need before Severus would let him come. Harry wanted to return the favour. Actually, he wanted to make Severus feel like he was a potion about to start boiling, a potion that just needed one more stir to get there. Just one more . . . Harry wanted to be so good in bed that Severus couldn't possibly keep quiet. 

And on Saturday morning, he'd got a few gasping pleas. Not enough, but it was a start. 

After breakfast in bed, they'd gone out to see the town. First stop, the Cologne Cathedral. Harry had almost balked when Severus had wanted to climb the steps to the top. After all, he'd just listened to a tour guide explain that it was the second tallest Gothic structure in the world. But Severus had insisted that the view was worth the exertion, and had he ever been right. It was even more magnificent than the cathedral itself, which was really saying something, since Harry's eyes had widened as they'd toured the building. No help for it, though. He'd never been in a cathedral before, let alone one that had taken over six hundred years to complete. 

Sort of sad, really, considering there were some back home that were probably just as old. 

They ate lunch at a smallish pub which served knackwurst and the promised sauerkraut. Turned out it wasn't bad, though nothing to write home about, either. The Kölsch, though, was another story. Harry hadn't ever drunk much beer, apart from butterbeer, but this was really amazing stuff. Lighter than British lager, and less bitter tasting . . . Harry drank his pint down in record time, and almost asked for a second. 

But considering how light-headed just the one mug was making him, he thought he'd better not. Good thing, too. After lunch, Severus took him on leisurely cruise down the Rhine, the two of them relaxing on benches in the open air and enjoying the brisk autumn air. Two beers and the swaying of the boat might have not set well with him. As it was, the motion was pleasant, blending into the muzzy feeling in his mind. 

Harry leaned against Severus, twining their fingers together as the city drifted past, and sighed with happiness more than once as the boat took them down the Rhine and back. 

Later that afternoon, they strolled through the market district, looking at knick-knacks and bric-a-brac, Severus making the obligatory snide comments about Harry's lamentable taste. And this time, Harry found he didn't mind in the least. Actually, spending time together like this was very relaxing, and it took Harry a while to understand why that was, actually. On all their previous trips abroad, he'd been a mass of nerves. He'd either been wary of Severus, like in Norway, or he'd been pushing himself to let the man kiss and touch him even though he wasn't ready for any of that, yet. 

But now . . . things between himself and Severus seemed settled, in a way. They were lovers again, like they'd been before the invocation, only this time, Harry didn't feel like he was being shoved into everything against his will or better judgment. He felt like if he'd known Severus better sooner--ha, and known himself, too--then things might have worked out this way in any case. 

Which was a daft thought, really. Harry knew that. It was only _Cambiare Podentes_ that had pushed them together; Severus would never have given Harry a second glance if not for the prophecy insisting he'd better. And Harry would never have looked on Severus as a potential lover, either. Hell, Harry would probably have never even figured out that he liked men. Or at least, he wouldn't have figured it out so soon. 

But this feeling he had now, that he and Severus _could_ have ended up together anyway, if they'd ever had a chance to really get to know one another and work things out . . . it might be a bit daft, but there was some truth to it, too. A little, at least. And Harry found himself liking the thought. He was a slave, and there was nothing to be done about it, but if he could tell himself that he and Severus had more going for them than just the spell binding them, then the whole thing felt a lot less oppressive. 

Not that Harry generally felt oppressed, in any case. 

On Saturday evening they had a drink in Harry's Lounge at the hotel, then soaked together in the extra-large tub as they watched the sun set over the city. Harry didn't realise until then how much he'd missed being high up in a tower. Even Severus' upstairs rooms weren't very high compared to ones where Gryffindor students lodged. 

They went out for dinner, Severus offering Harry a choice this time as to whether he'd like the finest food available in Cologne, or he'd prefer a menu he could read. Harry opted for the former. So what if Severus had to translate the menu for him, and help him choose? It was nothing like it had been in Norway, when he'd felt like Severus was criticising him every other sentence. 

In short, they got on these days. They really did. 

On Saturday night, Harry wanted to try again to make Severus babble with delight as Harry deep-throated him, but Severus took charge and they ended up using up the entire bottle of rosemary-scented oil that Severus had bought earlier that day. First they took turns giving each other neck-to-toe rubdowns. Then Severus lounged back on the bed and made Harry watch from a chair ten feet away while Severus poured oil all over his own balls and cock and stroked them. That was more frustrating than Harry could have imagined. It was just Severus wanking, after all. But somehow, not being allowed to join in was excruciating, the ache of it settling in his own cock and balls as Severus fondled himself. 

Harry felt like he was going to die if he wasn't allowed to touch himself when Severus came. 

But Severus stopped before he was that far gone, and demanded they switch places so that he could watch Harry wank. He said it was about time he enjoyed a show, since Merlin knew he'd fantasised enough about what Harry looked like in the shower. 

Harry suggested a shower, then, figuring that once he and Severus were both under the spray, Severus wouldn't be able to look and not touch for long at all. 

But Severus had shaken his head, refusing. No, Harry was to do as he'd been told, he said, his voice mock-stern but holding a meaning that Harry couldn't miss. Harry had asked for this, after all, had asked to be commanded so that his obedience could help them cross powers more completely. 

So, bed it was, Harry propped up against a couple of pillows piled against the headboard, his legs splayed apart just as Severus directed, one hand ghosting over his left nipple even as the other took his cock in a firm grasp and stroked it up and down. 

It was weird, watching Severus watch him wank, so Harry closed his eyes. Mistake, maybe. His mind started playing images like a movie for him, fantasies of himself and Severus lying in bed, facing each other, Severus kissing Harry's neck while they fondled each other's cocks. Something of what he was thinking must have shown on his face, because the next thing he knew, Severus' deep voice was breaking into his fantasies. 

"Tell me what you're thinking, Harry . . ." 

Harry gulped a little and looked up to see Severus' dark eyes steadily regarding him. 

In that moment, he came to some strange sort of awareness of himself. He hadn't been self-conscious the moment before. But as soon as Severus asked to hear what he was thinking, Harry realised how he must _look_ , lying there splayed out naked, everything on display, shamelessly bringing himself off while Severus watched. 

He felt like . . . well, actually, he didn't even know a word that fit. _Slutty_ was a word he'd really only ever thought applied to girls. And as wanton as he might be, he didn't feel like he was acting like a girl. Just . . . brazen, maybe. Or naughty. 

Harry liked being naughty, though this went far beyond what he'd thought of doing before. 

He decided he liked this, too, and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Actually, it was more like being determined than really deciding. But he was determined. Severus was his lover, and they were in this thing for life, weren't they? He was entitled to be as freewheeling as he felt like. 

And he couldn't deny that being told to wank while Severus watched had been . . . well, erotic. 

Harry helped himself to some more oil, then closed his eyes and tried to do what Severus had asked of him. It took a moment; he'd been thrown completely clear of his fantasy, after all. But then he felt the pressure in his balls building back up, the sensation tantalising, urging him on. 

"We're in your bed in the dungeons," he said, a little bit shocked at how _breathy_ his voice sounded, even to him. Gasping, almost. "We're naked, lying there chest to chest, cock to cock, and we're kissing. I'm opening my mouth wide . . ." 

Harry licked his lips just imagining it, and wished that Severus would come over to the bed and kiss him for real. He'd love that, to wank like this while they kissed. 

"Nipple, Harry," said Severus, his voice coming from much closer now. Harry could feel Severus' warm breath brushing his cheek. "I told you to play with your mark. You're neglecting it." 

Oh, right. Severus really did have a thing about the mark, but Harry didn't mind. Sometimes, in his saner moments, he wondered if it was such a good idea for Severus to practically get off on that nipple ring. It was like he was celebrating Harry's slavery, or something. But since it seemed to be _only_ a bedroom thing, no, Harry didn't really mind. Severus never had hid the fact that what he wanted to get out of _Cambiare Podentes_ was someone eager and willing to warm his bed. And Severus had been so good about the whole slavery thing that Harry really couldn't begrudge him that enjoyment of the nipple ring, even if the whole thing was . . . well, kinky, in his opinion. 

He moved his left hand to his nipple and tweaked it, pulling in a sharp breath when a few drops of oil fell onto it. 

"Keep your eyes closed," whispered Severus, his breath brushing against Harry's lips, that time. "And keep talking." 

"Kiss--" 

"Not yet." 

Harry had almost groaned in frustration. Instead, he tightened the hand he had wrapped around his cock, and thrust his hips up a bit, and began wanking more in earnest. "We're kissing," he gasped, no longer sure if he was fantasising or making a point. "Your tongue's all over mine. You can't get enough. You _love_ kissing me, and your cock is hard and filled to bursting and you're thrusting and I'm thrusting and it's hot, it's so hot I'm on fire, but it's a good heat and I can't get enough and--" 

Harry abruptly felt his wrist grabbed. 

"Stop wanking." 

With that, Severus firmly but gently guided Harry's hand away from his throbbing erection. 

Harry ground his hips, his cock bobbing upward in the empty air, seeking something to press up against. "I'm so close, I'm nearly there--!" 

"Mmm, I know," said Severus. "Eyes closed, I said." 

He tormented Harry then, kissing him, yes, but not on the mouth. Harry's left nipple, and then his right as well were thoroughly nibbled and licked and suckled, while Harry practically thrashed with need. 

And then Severus stretched out alongside Harry and poured the rest of the oil onto Harry and himself, slathering most of it on their cocks. Harry thought for sure they were about to act out his fantasy, cock sliding against cock while the two of them kissed. 

Instead, they kissed while their hands sought out one another. It was hot and slick and somehow more intensely personal than frottage. _That_ , Harry could let just sweep him away on a great tide, but this meant he had to keep mind of what he was doing. It wasn't Severus doing things to him . . . it was both of them, doing things together. 

Afterwards, Harry had chuckled at the state of the bed. Definitely, a cleaning charm was in order. Several, in fact. Oil was a bit stubborn to properly get out. 

Even after the sheets seemed crisp and new, they still smelled faintly of rosemary. 

Harry smiled to himself as he lay in Severus' arms. Strange how he could feel like he was home, when he wasn't even in his own country at the moment, but perhaps that was just a measure of how comfortable he felt with Severus, these days. So comfortable, in fact, that Harry started wondering again about something that had bothered him. Something he'd pushed from his mind a week ago, but now it was back, and demanding to be voiced. 

"Um . . . I know we said we wouldn't talk about it, but I really would like to know something," he murmured, tensing just a little. Perhaps it was stupid to bring it up. It didn't really matter much, not now, not after the week they'd just shared. The best week of Harry's life. Really. He hadn't realised what great fun sex could be, before. He hadn't realised he could want so much of it. 

Severus' voice was sleepy when he replied. "About?" 

Harry wondered how to phrase it. "Um, the brothel?" 

He felt Severus stiffen in the dark, his voice growing a little caustic. "That's behind us. Or do you still suspect I'm going to--" 

"No, I don't," said Harry, though secretly, perhaps part of him still wondered. That wasn't what this was about, though. He felt annoyed with himself for not listening to his better judgement. He'd known it was too touchy a subject to mention. "Never mind, then." 

Harry rolled on his side, facing the wall, and plumped his pillow with more force than was really needed. 

Silence reigned for a few moments, and then Harry heard Severus sigh. "What did you want to know? How much I paid?" 

Harry felt a little sick, hearing that. He actually hadn't ever wondered what the prices were, and found he didn't want to dwell on the fact that Severus had wanted to pay--hell, _had_ paid--someone for sex. Not just someone, either. _Renard._

Harry kind of hated the name. 

"No," he said shortly, not turning around. "I just can't help but wonder why you went there without so much as a Disillusionment charm, or anything. I mean, you're lucky I was the only one who saw you--" He decided not to mention Hagrid. " It was a Hogsmeade Saturday, for God's sake! What if a student had seen you go in there?" 

"A student who knew what that building was? There's hardly a sign on the door." 

Harry huffed. "Just didn't seem like you. Here we are in Cologne, where nobody even knows us, and we don't go outside the room without being disguised. But right there in practically your own backyard you stroll into a whorehouse where any student could have seen you?" 

Severus paused, the silence seeming to hang between them. "Perhaps you should consider that as far as the wizarding world is concerned, there's no reason why a man shouldn't frequent a brothel if he so desires." He held up a hand. "I grant that I should have paid mind to your feelings on the matter." 

Harry wasn't going to let them get sucked down that road. They'd settled all that, but that didn't mean he'd failed to notice Severus' hesitation. There was something else going on here. Harry could just feel it. 

Pasting a pleasant smile on his face, he sat up to look down at his lover. "I think we'd do better here if you told me the truth. You're hiding something. I can tell. It's right there in your tone of voice. So? Spill." 

Severus sat up too, crossing his arms and pressing his lips together as he leaned against the headboard. 

"You're a private person," said Harry, trying for a persuasive tone that time, since rebuking Severus hadn't seemed to work so well. "So what's going on? I don't understand. All you had to do was wave a Disillusionment charm around yourself. Why didn't you?" And then, when Severus maintained his stubborn silence, "Please? Just tell me. I can tell there's something you're not telling me." 

Severus gave a heavy sigh. "We're truly better off leaving it aside, Harry." 

"I don't want secrets coming between us." 

He got a sardonic look for that. "In this case, the truth is more likely to divide us." 

"Oh, come on! You can't throw out a comment like that and expect me not to want to know more." Harry ground his teeth in frustration. "Severus? What if I promise not to be angry?" 

"That's a promise you can't keep." 

"Who says I can't?" asked Harry, sitting up straighter. Wanting to see Severus' expression, he snatched up his wand and cast a weak _Lumos_. "Didn't I promise I wouldn't hold that other thing against you, you know, the--" 

"I know what you mean." 

"And haven't I kept my word? Damn it, if I haven't earned your trust by now then I don't know what we've been doing all these months!" 

Severus rolled his eyes. 

"Don't--" Harry took a deep breath and tried again. "Come on, Severus. It's obviously something important. Well?" 

"Fine," snapped the other man. "Do try not to become angry. I couldn't cast any concealing spells over myself, not that time. It would have ruined the Polyjuice." 

Harry gaped. "The . . . you're having me on, right?" 

Severus curled his lips into a sneer. "Would I jest about something like that? Since you seem to want a complete compendium of my activities, here it is. I'd availed myself of the brothel's offerings just once before, and on that occasion I had indeed cast a Disillusionment charm--" 

"Just once?" 

"Since the invocation, yes." 

"Oh." 

"May I continue?" 

Harry almost rolled his own eyes then, but decided he'd better not. He waved a hand. 

"I found the previous visit to be . . . unsatisfying. So when I went back, I brought along some Polyjuice, hoping that would make Renard more what I wanted." 

"Did it?" 

Severus sighed. "Not really. The experience still wasn't what I'd had in mind." 

Harry clenched his teeth for a moment, but since he'd said he wouldn't be angry, he tried his best to dismiss the feeling coursing through him. This was all in the past, after all. Severus wouldn't be going back there. 

Not if he knew what was good for him. 

"I didn't know wizards used Polyjuice like that," he finally said, his tones strained. "Sounds . . . I don't know. Weird." 

"I hadn't done it, before," said Severus, his own tones equally strained. "And won't again, obviously." 

Harry gave a stiff nod and asked the question that had leapt through his mind the moment Severus had mentioned Polyjuice. "Um, so . . . who did you pretend you were with, that day?" 

Severus looked at him like Harry had grown an extra nose. "Who do you think?" 

It took Harry a minute to catch on. A full minute, and Severus spent the whole time just _staring_ at him like it was bloody obvious and he couldn't believe Harry was having this much trouble working it out. 

"Oh. Er . . . you mean me?" 

When Severus nodded, Harry felt absolutely floored. Whatever he'd expected, it hadn't been that. 

"I don't know why you look so shocked," said Severus stiffly, shifting away on the bed. "I was in torment wanting you. _You_ , not some random willing man. You were the one driving me to distraction every day with your constant showers." 

Harry covered his mouth, trying to hold in his laughter, or maybe hide it, but things were too amusing for that to work for long. Somehow, Severus going to a prostitute didn't seem nearly as bad, now. He'd wanted _Harry_ , and he'd felt so unsatisfied with this Rene or whoever that he'd made him take Polyjuice, and even after that he'd still wanted the real thing. 

_Harry._

Actually, Harry felt just the tiniest bit smug about all of that. That is, until something else occurred to him. "Er . . . didn't you think this prostitute would say, _notice_ that he'd turned into Harry Potter?" 

"No mirrors." 

Harry nodded, barely suppressing a smirk. 

Severus drew his eyebrows together slightly. "You aren't angry." 

"No. It's kind of flattering, in a way." Harry held up a hand when it looked like Severus might reply. "You made it pretty clear that you liked the way I looked, but I didn't know you liked it _that_ much. I mean, enough to make him take Polyjuice? You must _really_ find me attractive!" 

"You have no idea." 

Harry started laughing again. 

Severus caught his hand in one of his own and stroked his fingers across Harry's palm. "I'd have told you this last week if I'd known it would put you in such a good mood." 

"Well, it might not have then." Harry shrugged. Who knew? It might have taken some of the sting out of the whole rentboy business. He honestly wasn't sure. "I was wondering, anyway, why it took you so long to get to the brothel. I went to the dungeons looking for you that morning, and it seemed like you'd left before I did." 

"You're bound to find this even more amusing," said Severus, almost growling. He meant it playfully, though. Harry could tell. "I was so excited at the prospect of having _you_ at long last, that I took along the Polyjuice and forgot to bring a strand of your hair. I had to go back to the castle to fetch the one I'd collected in advance." 

"Oh, you _were_ excited, then," said Harry, smirking. "Not like you to forget anything. But I suppose I am quite the distraction." 

"Quite," said Severus, the word very dry. 

" So I guess this substitute me was no good?" 

Severus levelled him a glance. "He was good, but that didn't matter. He wasn't you." 

Harry felt a little let-down about the first part of that, but the last part more than made up for it. Especially since they'd put all this behind them, anyway. "I wish we didn't have to go back tomorrow. Can't we owl in sick, or something, and stay here another day?" 

"You know we can't." 

Harry snuggled down in Severus' arms. "Well, at least we still have tomorrow." 

_I'll make you babble yet,_ he'd thought. 

And he had. They'd slept in on Sunday, then had gone to see the Picasso collection in the Museum Ludwig. Severus explained a bit about the cubist movement--he obviously found it fascinating--but Harry didn't really understand the appeal. The people in Picasso's paintings looked monstrous to him, almost like people who had been twisted beyond recognition by some kind of magical force. 

Harry didn't like looking at them. They looked too much like the visions he'd had of people under _Cruciatus_. 

The minute they left the museum, he put those awful images firmly from his mind. It helped that Severus took him on a walk through the city, visiting Romanesque churches. Harry found them calming. Peaceful. 

Maybe because some of the stonework reminded him a bit of Hogwarts. 

They had another fancy dinner out, this time eating in a restaurant that overlooked the Rhine, before returning to the hotel. There in the sitting room, a view of the city spread out below them, Severus conjured some instruments and held him close as they swayed to the soft sound of a jazz quartet. 

Harry decided he liked dancing. A lot. 

Yet one more thing he wouldn't have known about himself, if not for Severus. 

A funny feeling seemed to well up inside him, then. He didn't know what to call it; he didn't even know what it was. He just knew that he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather spend the weekend with. 

Harry pulled Severus closer, leaning against him, and relaxed completely. 

By the time the music had ebbed to a halt, Harry knew how he wanted to end the evening. His eyes gleaming with intent, he urged Severus over to a chair and knelt before him, lovingly caressing his placket before opening it to free the man's hardening cock. 

Time to blow Severus' mind. Time to show him what Harry could do. 

And he _could_ do it. Harry didn't even have any difficulty, this time. He knew the trick now, knew just how to ease that long cock down his throat. All the way down his throat. _Mmm, delicious_. Harry couldn't get enough of it, and now that he knew how to take it all, he could hardly believe he'd ever thought it so impossible. 

His cock pulsed as he worked his way up and down Severus' long length. The feeling was so good that he moaned around the cock in his mouth, and that was when he first heard the other man's soft, keening cries. 

"Yes, like that," Severus was saying, his fingers clenched on the chair's armrests, his hips jerking rhythmically as Harry bobbed his face up and down. 

_Yes, like that?_ Harry thought he could do better than that, thought that he could make Severus beg and plead and gibber out nonsense. All Harry had to do was set his mind to it. . 

He took Severus to the brink of orgasm, then pulled back and sucked and licked at his cockhead while his hand played with the man's balls, teasing the taut skin just behind them. Then moving forward again, all the way forward until his forehead was pressed up against Severus' belly. 

Severus gasped. "Harry--" 

Harry wrapped his arms all the way around Severus and held him tight as he began to swallow around his cock, his throat muscles caressing Severus' length. 

That was when the babbling began in earnest, music to Harry's ears. 

He liked knowing he could drive Severus to the brink that way. Liked knowing that he was good in bed, good enough to make Severus moan and gasp and writhe and before it was all over, beg for release. 

Harry let him come then, Severus' cock lodged all the way down his throat. Harry would have preferred to taste him, as he'd said, but this, tonight, it was to please Severus, who liked to be thrust completely in as his balls contracted and his pleasure came spurting out the end of his cock. 

Afterwards, Harry climbed onto the bed and watched as Severus recovered. Took a while, really. Harry felt proud of that, too. 

Finally, Severus rearranged his clothing, tucking his wilting cock back into his trousers. 

"Kind of naughty that we never even undressed properly," said Harry. "Gives me ideas, actually. I could go down to your office when you don't have a class, and--" 

"Not a good idea." 

Harry laughed. "Why not? Nobody's going to ask what I'm doing in there, and even if they did, I'd just say I had wanted to discuss some Slytherin or other with his head of house." The more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it. The only real thing wrong with the past week had been the way he'd had to go without sex from morning until night. His own fault, with that stupid Quidditch schedule. 

Harry could understand now, just why Severus had resented it. 

"You're quite at ease," said Severus as he moved to join Harry on the bed. "Not so very long ago you were terrified at the thought that someone might jump to conclusions if they so much as overheard me asking you to pass the kippers." 

"Oh, I was never as bad as all that." When Harry thought about it, though, he realised that he had been. "All right, I was pretty awful. I guess I was just still pretty alarmed that somebody might find out I was with you. And not because of you, either. I mean, I just didn't want anyone to know that I liked men that way. But . . . I don't know. It all seems pretty normal to me now." 

Severus pulled him closer. "Good." 

"Wish I hadn't spent so long with such arsehole relatives." Harry sighed a little. "I am actually sorry about your father, but in a way it's good to know that you can understand. Some, at least." 

Harry didn't want to dwell on something so depressing, so he reached for the remote on the night table. "How about some more _Simpsons_ or something?" 

"Or something," muttered Severus. 

"Hey, at least you can understand what they're saying. Tell you what, you can do a running translation--" 

"I don't think so." 

Ignoring him, Harry clicked the television on. 

"I thought I unplugged it." 

That had Harry grinning. "Teach you to stay in an expensive hotel, Severus. The maid set it right." He started flipping channels, then, looking for cartoons. There weren't any on. Too bad. Harry had been looking forward to teasing Severus more about translating for him. 

He settled on an English language channel which looked to be some kind of news feed from the BBC. Shrugging, Harry settled back to watch it. 

" _. . . and rain in the north,_ " a pretty, dark-haired weather forecaster was finishing as she gestured at a map of the United Kingdom. " _Expect scattered showers through Wednesday morning._ " 

The scene shifted to a sombre-faced man staring straight into the camera. _"We've no video as of yet, but this bureau has received several reports from the West Midlands in the past few minutes. Residents of Wolverhampton are complaining of winds strong enough to uproot trees. Several cars have apparently been damaged by falling branches, and unconfirmed reports indicate that a single house in Goldthorn Park has been completely destroyed, though oddly enough, structures adjacent on either side escaped unscathed. The residents of the house were apparently at home and are presumed dead. And now, in entertainment news . . ._ " 

Harry muted the sound and swallowed hard before he turned to Severus. "I don't think the problems he's talking about were really caused by wind." He couldn't help but glance at Severus' left sleeve. "Your mark, has it flared or twinged or anything like that?" 

Severus looked grim. "Earlier today." 

Harry blew a breath out through his teeth. "And you didn't insist on firecalling Albus immediately?" 

"For what purpose? It doesn't usually herald doom, and we've no other spy to send into the viper's nest." 

All right, maybe demanding that Severus panic over every twinge was unreasonable. In fact, maybe Harry was jumping to conclusions. "It could be wind, I suppose," he said slowly. "Freak storm, something like that. I've heard they can pick off one house and leave the ones next door standing--" 

"That newscast sounded remarkably like a Ministry cover story." 

"Oh, God." Severus was right; it really had. "What do we do?" 

"More to the point is what we don't do," said Severus calmly. "We don't chase after the Dark Lord just because he might be becoming more active. We wait until you're ready." 

A sudden feeling of dread washed clean over Harry. "I'll never be ready. I was _useless_ in that graveyard. Even with the twinned wands, I still needed my mum and dad to tell me what to do! And I did even worse the next year, in the atrium at the Ministry--" 

Severus took him by the shoulders, his grip fierce, but somehow also comforting. "This time will be different. _This_ time, you have me." 

"Your powers, you mean," said Harry dully. "Except, I don't! What do you think, he's going to challenge me to a broomstick race? All I can do is go faster. That's not going to help unless I want to run away!" 

Severus pulled him close and rubbed his back. "You'll have what you need. We'll keep working on it." 

"But--" 

Severus abruptly stood up, pulling Harry with him. "I propose we make our way home so we can speak with Albus. He'll know if the Dark Mark was seen hanging over Wolverhampton." 

It was a hell of a way to end their pleasant idyll in Cologne, Harry thought as Severus cast a packing spell. But there was no help for that. 

What was, _was._ And he had to face it. 

  
  
  
  



	35. Chapter 35

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, October 24, 1998 ---- 8:22 p.m.**

"Yes," Albus simply said, in answer to Harry's frantic question. 

So the Dark Mark _had_ been seen hovering over Wolverhampton. Severus frowned. He valued his privacy, but if the Dark Lord was becoming more active, he'd have to start reporting the occasional flares in his mark to the Order. 

The moment Albus had spoken, Harry had more or less collapsed into a chair, his features twisted. Well, he always had let his emotions show far too much. "I was hoping we were wrong," he said dully. "He killed someone, then. Or his Death Eaters did it for him." 

"Yes," Albus said again, the word gentle. And then, with a hint of tension, "Severus?" 

Severus understood the unspoken plea. Pulling a chair close to Harry, he sat down too, and took Harry's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. No point now in trying to feign indifference in front of Albus. The old wizard knew better, and anyway, Harry was more important than the slight embarrassment of Severus being known to care about his young lover. 

"The news said the whole family was presumed missing, I think," said Harry, who bit his lip the moment he'd finished speaking. "They're all dead? Were there children, do you know?" 

"Their deaths are not your fault. That is what I know," said Severus, squeezing Harry's fingers in a firm grip. 

"Of course they are. I should have tried harder, I should have started having sex with you right away instead of waiting until I wanted to-- oh." Harry twisted his face away, clearly upset that he'd said that in front of Albus. 

"Harry . . ." The headmaster's voice trailed off as though he didn't quite know what to say. 

Harry, though, seemed to have come to some kind of fork in the road. He looked up, his eyes narrowed in clear determination. "No, I'd been meaning to talk to you, anyway. I wanted to let you know that everything's been fine. I mean, even that. Severus has been great and I've been really happy. Well, until this came up." 

"That's certainly good to hear, my boy," said Albus in a soothing voice, though Severus didn't miss the man's quick glance in his direction. Clearly, he was a little bit startled to hear Harry characterise him as "great." 

"And I'm sorry I was so rude to you during the summer," said Harry, sounding like he hadn't even really heard Albus. "You know, after my birthday. That was wrong. I shouldn't have been wallowing in depression; I should have been getting my act together so this whole Wolverhampton thing could never have happened, and--" 

"Harry, Severus is right," said Albus firmly. "These deaths are not your fault." 

"Deaths. Plural." Harry slumped in his chair. 

Severus abruptly stood up, using their joined hands to pull Harry to his feet. "Headmaster, as there's nothing to be done tonight, we'll return to my quarters, now." 

Harry didn't resist, exactly, but when they were at the Floo, he tugged his hand from Severus' and turned back toward Albus. "Sir, I've been meaning to ask you-- Wait, no. Never mind." 

Albus took one step closer, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling more than usual. "Yes, Harry? You can ask me anything. I would hope you know that." 

Harry gave a tiny jerk of his head, the motion jerky. "But I can't. This one's a life-altering decision. I have to talk it over with Severus." 

"Ah. Of course." Still, as though he couldn't resist it, Albus moved towards then, his robes fluttering, and laid both his hands lightly atop Harry's shoulders. "I would also hope you know how proud I am of you, Harry. You truly are a most remarkable young man, and it's good to see that Severus understands that, now." 

Severus very nearly scowled. Interfering old busy-body. He didn't need Albus poking his well-intentioned nose into things. Too many more comments like that, and Harry might start to wonder if Severus had come to care for him. Which would be like handing Harry power on a plate. Power over Severus. 

Harry had enough of that already. He didn't need to know he had it. 

"It's also good to see you two getting on so well," continued Albus. 

Harry abruptly sighed, which made Severus wonder if he was thinking the same thing Severus was: that when it came to getting along, they didn't have a lot of choice, all things considered. 

As Severus reached for the Floo powder on the mantle, Harry asked. "Oh. There is one thing. Have you heard from Bryerson?" 

Albus slowly nodded. "I'm fairly certain you'll need to continue covering classes for the lower forms all through this week." 

"Yeah, all right." Harry stepped into the Floo, clearly bracing himself for the short journey. 

Severus stepped in after him and threw the powder down, relieved to be going home with Harry. 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, October 24, 1998 ---- 9:08 p.m.**

The moment they stepped out into the dungeons, Harry headed for the reading room where Severus kept his dining table. "Firewhiskey," he ordered in a rasping voice as he sat down. 

When nothing appeared, his nostrils flared. "What, am I not allowed anything stronger than wine?" 

"You might consider giving the elves a moment to see to it," said Severus mildly. 

"I hate how you can be so calm." The drink came then, and Harry wasted no time in snatching it up and swallowing a big mouthful. God, but it burned going down. But that was all right. Harry thought he needed the discomfort, just now, even if it did make him cough and sputter. Severus gave him a knowing look, but Harry ignored it and swigged his drink again. The second gulp was easier. 

Though not by much. 

"Perhaps some ice," suggested Severus. 

Harry almost told him to piss off. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly feeling so angry. It wasn't Severus' fault that Voldemort was stepping up his attacks on the wizarding world. 

_No, but it is his fault that he's going to tell you that you can't join the Order,_ Harry thought. 

Ha. That was probably why Harry had wanted a drink to begin with. He'd been putting off asking about the Order all along, because he knew what Severus would say about it. Harry wasn't like any other adult; he couldn't do as he pleased. He had to do what Severus thought best. 

"I don't want ice," he said, taking a deep breath before he threw back the rest of the drink. "Another," he said, slamming his glass back down to the table. "I just want to join the Order." 

Severus' features tightened, as Harry had known they would. But instead of simply saying no, he took the seat across from Harry. "We should discuss the matter. Water. Room temperature." 

Resentment flashed through Harry to see that Severus got his water before Harry's refill arrived. Some part of him knew it was probably a case of water being easier for the elves to procure, but mostly, he felt slighted. Like his wishes took second-place to Severus', and even the damned elves knew it! "Enjoy your water," he said, practically snarling. 

At that moment a glass glimmered into existence, right alongside his hand. Harry wasted no time in snatching it up and taking another big swallow. That time he didn't even cough, though he could still feel the liquid burning as it went down his throat. 

"The water's for you," said Severus. "Unless you want to go to class with a terrible hangover tomorrow." 

"I'm sure you have some potion that's just brilliant for that," muttered Harry, draining his second glass dry. Fuck the water. 

"It works better if you exercise some judgment to begin with." 

"Look, why don't you just tell me I can't join the Order and get it over with?" 

"Don't lay that at my door," said Severus, his voice no longer quite so mild. "You know perfectly well what a colossal mistake that would be. You'd be a junior member, your glorious past accomplishments notwithstanding. They'll hatch plans to vanquish the Dark Lord and they'll expect you to fall in line with them. Or were you planning to tell all and sundry that you have a far more brilliant plan of your own?" 

"Like _Podentes_ is my plan, at all!" Harry told the table to give him a third Firewhiskey, but that time, nothing appeared though he waited a good two minutes. "Oh, great. You're countermanding it, somehow!" 

"Oh, yes," said Severus softly. "Because of course the elves have strict orders to let staff get roaring drunk on request. So it must be me stopping you. It couldn't possibly be any concern on the part of Hogwarts for the well-being of those in the castle's employ." 

"I'm not roaring drunk!" 

"You're not far off. And you're an angry drunk, it seems. I wouldn't have expected that." 

"Why don't you just go fuck off, Severus? But before you do, tell the table to get me another damned drink!" 

Severus suddenly got his feet, a muttered oath crossing his lips as he strode away towards the sitting room. He returned with a squat bottle of golden liquid in his hand. Harry peered at the label. Crown Royale. He'd never heard of it. 

"My personal stock. By all means, get as drunk as you please," said Severus, waving for him to get on with it. "And perhaps then you'll believe that I have very little interest in controlling your behaviour, no matter how ridiculous you might get." 

So Harry was ridiculous, was he? That was probably just Severus' way of trying to get him to stop. The man did seem to think insults the best way to handle things, didn't he? Look at the nasty things he'd said about James back when he'd wanted Harry to stop falling into mindlessness. 

Harry wished he could fall into that again, now. So much easier than thinking. But he couldn't summon the mood on command. Really, he probably couldn't ever fall into that again. He'd started doing that because it was the best way to deal with verbal and physical abuse from Vernon fucking Dursley. And annoying as Severus might be at times, he wasn't going to abuse Harry. 

And Harry knew it. 

Harry had a feeling then, that maybe it was actually stupid to have a third glass of liquor, but it seemed like he had a lot more reasons to drink than not to. Death and destruction all around, and it was only going to get worse from here on out. Harry recognised the signs. He might have pretended to himself, back in that hotel room, that the news was just the news, but deep inside, he'd known better. Voldemort was moving, again. He was active. He wasn't going to stop until Harry stopped him. 

And Harry couldn't, because his goddamned crossed powers were about a piss-poor as they could be. If he and Voldemort were going to face off at Quidditch, then maybe, just maybe, Harry might have some kind of chance. But as things were? 

He was fucking pathetic, and everything he'd sacrificed for _Cambiare Podentes_ had been one long waste, from start to finish. 

Harry downed his third glass without even stopping between swallows, absently thinking that Muggle liquor was really very easy to drink compared to the wizard kind. 

But it was just as potent, maybe. Because now Harry felt like he was reeling. But wait, no. That was probably just the Firewhiskey finally kicking in. Well, about damned time. 

All at once, Harry felt calm again, like the liquor had finally singed off the worst of his upset and nervousness. So, his life was fucked up. What else was new? At least he was pretty happy with Severus. It might not last long, considering Harry was going to have to go up against Vol-- no, no, the Dark Lord, he'd been forgetting that, lately-- but anyway, if he was destined to die soon, at least he wasn't going to die a virgin, or some maudlin crap like that. 

"Let's go suck ourselves fenseless," said Harry, vaguely aware that he was slurring his words. But who cared? It was the thought that counted. 

Severus looked like he was repressing a small smile, though his eyes remained as angry as before. Furious, actually. "I don't think so. You'll probably get me hot and bothered and then pass out." 

Harry blinked, then lurched unsteadily to his feet. "No, I'm good for it." 

"Are you? Really," drawled Severus, one hand coming around Harry to help his balance. His other hand descended to Harry's crotch and palmed him. Quite crudely, really. It wasn't usually how Severus acted, Harry thought, vaguely confused. 

"You're soft as a newborn kitten," said Severus, the sound of the words a little harsh. He even nipped at Harry's ear. Odd how Harry barely felt it, when at the same time he suspected he'd have a bruise there, in the morning. "You're good for bed, but nothing else." 

" . . . but . . . like fucking," said Harry, barely able to come up with anything more coherent than that. Or maybe he could. "Like fucking you, Sev'rus. Like sucking you. Like--" 

"You've forgotten about your burning desire to join the Order, I take it?" 

The question was like a bucketful of cold water dumped on him without warning. Adrenaline running high, Harry pushed away from Severus' half-embrace. No matter that the room spun, and he had to grasp hold of the table to keep from falling straight on his arse. He could think straight; that was all that mattered. 

"Yeah, and you changed the subject, didn't cha, hmm? Didn't cha?" 

"You did that. You decided to discuss whose plan _Podentes_ was. Allow me to inform you that it wasn't mine!" 

"So fate fucked you, too!" shouted Harry as he shoved off the table. "Welkerm to my life! Now, I know you're got some ant up your arse about nobody knowing you're sleeping wif me, but git over it, wouldja? I wanna be in the Order, and if that means people know we're screwing, then screw them!" 

"It means they would know quite a bit more than that." Severus took him by both forearms, his grip strong enough to hold Harry upright. "I don't care who knows we're together, but I do care who knows that the plan is to cross our powers. The fewer people who know a secret, the better. Or have you learned nothing from your own family history?" 

"Albus could lemme in the Order and keep the plan still a secret, keep everybody else from telling me what to do--" 

"You really are too drunk to be discussing this," said Severus, his voice kind of fading in and out, to Harry's ears. "If Albus has to dissuade the others from including you when it seems logical to them, it will raise questions. _We don't need questions,_ Harry." 

That made sense in a vague sort of way. Actually, Harry had the feeling that he'd thought of that before, all by himself, but it seemed like he really couldn't remember right now. Or think. He felt like he was spinning around and around even though Severus was hanging onto him, his grip tight. 

"I-- I--" 

"Drink as much water as you can bear and go to bed," said Severus. "And if you throw up in the night, do try to make it to the loo." 

"I just wanna feel like a grown-up--" Harry gulped, all at once feeling maudlin instead of angry. 

"You have not one job but two, and more responsibilities than most adults ever acquire. Joining the Order wouldn't prove anything that isn't already obvious." 

When the floor started tilting at an alarming rate, Harry stepped forward to lean against Severus. That was better. Everything all around him was still gently rolling, but now, he felt safe. 

"I just--" 

"I know," said Severus, his hands coming up to stroke Harry's back. "When there's no more strategic advantage in keeping you out of the Order, I'll have no objection to your joining." 

Harry blinked, feeling like he was hanging on for dear life. "You'll let me choose?" 

"Of course." Severus gave him a slight push, then. "Go to bed, now." 

Harry did, but Severus' earlier words had proved prophetic. He _did_ throw up during the night, and he didn't make it to the loo. Severus took care of him, though. He took care of everything, helping Harry into the shower, giving him a headache potion, and settling him back into the bed he'd cleaned. 

By then, Harry was sober enough to feel like a right idiot. What good did drinking do? Especially on a Sunday night when he had to work in the morning. Especially on _this_ Sunday night when he had to handle Bryerson's classes all by himself the next day! 

_And_ coach Quidditch in the evening. 

Harry groaned. 

"Just sleep," said Severus, ghosting a hand over Harry's shoulder. But the other man wasn't in bed with him. Severus was standing to the side. 

"Sleep better with you," mumbled Harry, grabbing hold of Severus' sleeve and tugging. "In. C'mon." 

Once Severus climbed in, Harry felt a little bit better. He moved to snuggle, his head on Severus' shoulder, his bare cock nestled against the man's thigh. Harry was too exhausted to find that arousing, but the closeness was still comforting. 

He slept the rest of the night without waking once. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, October 25, 1998 ---- 7:02 a.m.**

Severus was fairly sure he knew what Harry's first words on waking were going to be. 

"Hangover potion," Harry gasped, just as soon as Severus shook him awake. 

Severus had it ready. Part of him would rather let Harry sleep it off, but he didn't want to encourage Harry to drown his troubles in drink. Besides, part of being an adult was dealing with the consequences of one's own actions. 

After the things Harry had said, Severus didn't want to do anything that would suggest he was anything but a responsible grown-up. 

"You understand about the Order?" he asked, uncertain how much Harry remembered from the evening before. 

"Yeah, yeah," said Harry, groaning as he levered himself out of bed. "I do, actually. Why do you think I haven't demanded to join before this?" 

Harry had demanded to join before, as Severus recalled, though he hadn't pressed the matter. 

Harry stood and stretched, yawning, his feet planted slightly apart, his arms outstretched to either side. Good thing his eyes were closed as he did it, or he'd have seen Severus staring at the sight of his fit body put on display. 

Severus' lips curled upwards as he watched Harry stretch. All the daily flying had toned his muscles to perfection. Even better than that, though, was the way Harry had completely lost his self-consciousness around Severus. His cock was nestled in its bed of black curls, a tempting peach-coloured morsel thrusting forward a little when Harry arched his back, but Harry didn't seem aware that he was naked. 

He padded his way over to the connecting door, going upstairs where his clothes were kept. By the time Harry came back down, Severus had arranged for a light meal to be waiting for him. Just toast and tea. 

"Thanks," said Harry, flopping into a chair. "I don't think I could face breakfast in the Great Hall. My head's still not feeling so great . . . maybe your potion needs work." 

"I told you to drink the water." 

"Oh, right." Nibbling at his toast a little, Harry sighed. "I always used to hate it when the teachers gave us bookwork to do, but I can't imagine running around the class supervising practicals, right now. Ha. The students today can read a chapter and outline it." 

Severus held in his smile. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, October 25, 1998 ---- 8:45 p.m.**

_Glad the day's finally over,_ Harry had thought on Monday night as he reached the castle gates after Quidditch practice. He felt worn clear through. After teaching all of Bryerson's sections through fourth year, he'd wanted nothing more than to sleep, but instead, he'd had to plan out his Quidditch lesson. And it had to be a good one, since the first match of the year was scheduled for the coming weekend. Harry's first thought, which was to run the same practices that he'd done the week before, wasn't really an option. Ravenclaw would throw a fit. They'd want some final edge to help them get ready for their match against Hufflepuff. 

Harry groaned, and somehow got through the planning and practice, both. 

But on Monday night, the Ravenclaws had been absolute hell. Harry's own fault, of course. They were nervous and anxious about the match. He could have set the rotation so some other team was the first to play, but he'd frankly not been looking forward to watching any matches involving Gryffindor or Slytherin. He wasn't supposed to be biased in favour--or against--any team. 

Well, at least he didn't coach Hufflepuff until Wednesday. Though that left Harry in the odd position of being relieved that he dealt with Slytherin on Tuesday nights. 

By the time he finally got back home for the evening, he'd been ready to sleep for a week, but then Severus suggested that they should go to the Room of Requirement and see if their time together in Cologne had helped their powers to begin crossing more fully. The glint in Severus' eye said that he expected it had. 

The mere idea gave Harry a small burst of adrenaline. Eager to see if Severus was right, he wasn't even been bothered by the Floo journey to the seventh floor. When they emerged into the room, everything was just as they'd left it. 

" _Incendio?_ " Harry asked. "Er . . . my wand or yours?" 

"Try them both," Severus had advised. 

So, Harry had, using his own first. The spell appeared normal enough when he began to cast, but after a moment he'd started concentrating harder, trying to draw on as much power as he could. He tried to recapture that feeling he'd had out on the Quidditch pitch, when enough desire--and effort--could boost his magic to new heights. 

" _Incendio!_ " he yelled, his forehead furrowed, his arm flung out in a straight line as he stepped forward toward the hearth. 

A fireball burst forth from the tip of his wand and exploded in the Floo. A small explosion, to be sure. Nothing dire. 

But the heat had cracked three different stones, Harry noticed. 

Severus staggered, stepping backwards quickly until the back of his legs collided with a chair. He promptly collapsed into it. 

Harry rushed to his side. "You all right?" 

"I could feel the power draining from me," said Severus, sitting up straighter. He pushed Harry away. "I'm fine now." 

Harry didn't think so. "You look pale. And . . . I don't know. You're shivering." He reached out a hand towards Severus' forehead, wanting to see if his skin was cold. 

Severus batted Harry's hand away. "I'm always pale. It's a momentary weakness. Don't think a thing of it. Try my wand, now." 

Harry frankly thought that suggestion was supposed to distract him. It didn't work; he positioned himself so he could keep his eye on Severus this time. But at least the man was already in a chair. No danger he'd fall over, or anything like that. 

Severus' wand worked equally well for Harry. 

Meanwhile, Severus slumped, his eyelids flickering closed, but only for the briefest of instants. 

Harry knew better than to hover over him, this time. Kneeling alongside the chair, sitting back on his heels, Harry just waited until Severus looked at him. 

"Don't start," the other man said dryly. "We should have expected this. The power has to come from somewhere, after all." 

"Just tell me if it weakened you more or less than you felt that time when I was flying on crossed powers," said Harry, fixing Severus with a stern look. A look that said that Severus had better not lie to him. 

Severus hesitated, which told Harry as much as any single word could. 

"More, then." 

The other man nodded. 

"And as we cross our powers further, you'll be affected more and more, still," said Harry slowly. 

"Possibly. The effect on me might depend on the type of spell you cast, you realise." 

Harry spotted another chair appearing and wasted no time in dropping into it. "Something's gone wrong," he said, thinking out loud. "I mean, this can't be right. I'm sure the crossing of powers isn't supposed to-- to _hurt_ , the master wizard." 

"I'm hardly hurt." 

"But still! It doesn't make sense." 

"The power exchange was designed to help a weak wizard," said Severus, shrugging. He had a crystal goblet of water in his hand, and was sipping at it as he spoke. "You're far from weak. I told you from the start that things might not work as expected in our case. Perhaps our exchange is a bit more . . . extreme in nature." 

Harry started to say something, only to have Severus cut him off. 

"But that is what we need, Harry. Only something truly extreme will rid the world of the Dark Lord, once and for all." 

"But if a normal spell weakens you, what will an Unforgivable do?" 

"I don't know," said Severus. "Though I will point out that _Avada Kedavra_ may well not be the best way, or indeed, any way at all, to kill the Dark Lord. I don't know all he's done to make himself resistant to death, but I can't imagine he hasn't thought of that spell." 

"Yeah, of course," murmured Harry. 

"Regardless, you're not to hesitate," said Severus, his voice stern. "In the thick of battle, you're to think only of what needs to be done. Only that, Harry. Nothing else." 

Harry licked his lips and saw a goblet appear for him, as well. His was filled with wine, though. _Ugh._ Not what he wanted. He wondered how the room could be misreading him, like that. "But what if I kill you when I kill him?" 

Severus chuckled, though Harry didn't see anything remotely amusing. "You take things too literally. _Incendio_ didn't set me alight, did it? Believe me, I plan to live a long and rewarding life after the spectre of the Dark Lord is banished forever." 

His eyes were glittering as he said it, and Harry wasn't sure if he was thinking of the Order of Merlin he might get, or if the reward he had in mind was Harry himself, enslaved, for the rest of his life. 

Harry gulped. That would be all right; he knew that now. Not what he would have chosen, not what he would have wanted, but all right, all the same. 

But the thought of Severus _dying_ . . . that wasn't all right. Even though it would set Harry free. How could Harry enjoy his freedom, knowing it had been bought at such a price? 

"You're still thinking the worst," said Severus, getting up from his chair. "Stop it. Stop it this instant. I didn't invoke the rite with you so that you could hesitate at this late juncture. I _want_ this. I want him gone, and you're to pay heed to what I want, aren't you?" 

Yes, Harry was. If he didn't, then all of this had been for nothing. And if Harry didn't do everything he could to kill Voldemort, then Severus was a dead man, anyway. Or worse than dead. Voldemort would torture him horribly-- 

Severus wasn't done speaking. "Moreover, you're making too much of this. There's nothing, _nothing_ to suggest that I'm in any danger whatsoever. I get dizzy for an instant when the power rushes out of me. You're not to worry about it." 

Harry couldn't help but worry, but he could also see that it wasn't going to do either one of them any good for him to say so. 

"Now, let's see what else you can do," Severus sternly instructed. 

By then, Harry had long since burned through his adrenaline rush. He felt about as exhausted as Severus looked. But Severus was right about one thing: if Harry didn't use these crossed powers, everything he'd gone through would be for nothing. 

Everything they'd both gone through. 

Harry tried a few more spells. As with _Incendio_ , he could deliver them with more power than ever before. He could lift heavy weights using magic, now, instead of being limited to feathers or books. But there was never any danger that he'd accidentally cause effects he hadn't intended; he had to concentrate in order to use their crossed powers. 

If he didn't think about needing more power, his spells behaved exactly the same as they always had. 

Each time he pulled power from Severus, the other man seemed to be able to feel it, but it never did cause anything more than a moment's weakness. Even when Harry pulled out more and more power, the effect on Severus appeared to remain the same. Perhaps it was just the shock of the transfer starting each time? 

So . . . perhaps he was worrying for nothing. 

By the end of the evening, something else was bothering Harry. " _Aguamenti_ that looks like a fire hose is certainly an improvement, but I can't believe it's going to be enough." He sighed, feeling discouraged. "Our powers had better cross a lot more or they won't be good for very much." 

Severus, still sitting in his chair, raised his shoulders slightly. "I expected it to be a process." 

"And the more I please you, the more it moves along," murmured Harry. Something seemed to click in his mind. "This past weekend, you know how you were giving me loads of opportunities to obey you? That must be it. That must be what's causing our powers to cross more. So we have to keep that up, and do even more of it. Would you mind telling me what to eat, and things like that? I mean, anything to convince the spell." 

Severus had a slight frown on his face. "Harry . . ." 

Harry set his jaw. "I know, I know, you don't want a slave. And I don't particularly want to be one, especially not _that_ kind, fawning over your every word, but if it helps us cross powers, then we have to, Severus." 

"I don't think abject obedience will help us cross powers faster, though," said the other man quietly. "It's not what I want from you." 

"Well, we have to _try_ ," shouted Harry. Part of him was aware that shouting wasn't very submissive, and demanding things from Severus certainly wasn't, but this was too important to let go. "Wolverhampton, remember? People _died._ And they wouldn't have, if I'd got my act together sooner! And is what I'm asking so hard? I'm the one who'll have to obey you. All you have to do is tell me what to do!" 

Severus' frown was a scowl, by then. "Fine." 

Harry nodded, the motion definite. "Fine. Right." 

"Floo downstairs and go to bed." 

That wasn't the kind of command Harry had been expecting, but since he felt too worn out, it was probably just as well. Besides, the room still didn't contain a bed. If Severus wanted to have sex, one would have appeared, right? 

Huh. Harry didn't want to have sex, anyway. But somehow the idea that Severus wasn't interested, either . . . he didn't like that. "Um . . . naked?" 

Severus shook his head, his voice still dark. "Not tonight. Just go to sleep. I'll be down a bit later." 

"But what are you going to do?" 

"I need to think." 

"About?" 

Another scowl, this one much deeper. "Just Floo downstairs and go to bed." 

Harry clenched his teeth. "Don't treat me like--" 

"Like what? A slave? I thought that was what you wanted!" 

"It's what I think we need!" 

Severus leaned closer to him and spoke in rasping tones. "Then do as I have said!" 

Harry's nostrils flared, but then it seemed that there was nothing left to do except obey. 

  
  
  
  



	36. Chapter 36

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, October 28, 1998 ---- 2:45 p.m.**

"Do you expect me to be able to read this, Bole?" Harry asked mockingly, as he leaned over the boy's desk. Bole didn't like him getting so close, Harry knew, so Harry made it a point to hover as much as he pleased. "Five more points from Slytherin." 

There was a collective sigh from Bole's half of the room. 

Harry almost smiled, but managed, just in time, to hold the expression in. He didn't know what went on in the Slytherin common room in the evenings, but he could easily imagine that life hadn't been easy for Charles Bole, lately. He'd managed to lose twenty-five points during Tuesday's lesson, and was starting off badly today as well. 

Well, it served him right. If he wasn't such a Voldemort-loving little prat, showing his contempt for Harry with his every breath, then Harry wouldn't have any reason to take points. 

Or assign detentions. 

"Start that over and make it legible," added Harry, standing up straight again. "Well? What are you waiting for?" 

Bole apparently hadn't had enough detentions, Harry thought, because in the next moment the first-year was throwing his quill down onto his desk, hard enough to spray droplets of ink onto his classmates' parchments. 

"I won't!" he abruptly shouted, his lower lip thrust out in clear defiance, just in case Harry hadn't heard his words. "I won't write it over! There's nothing wrong with it!" 

Harry raised an eyebrow, his whole expression becoming one of mockery. "Is _legible_ a new word for you, Bole? Should I speak more slowly so you can keep up? It's _messy._ Is that clear enough, now?" 

"It's no messier than his, or hers!" Bole pointed at the seatwork several fellow Slytherins were doing. 

"Oh, excellent point," drawled Harry. You could always count on Slytherins to turn on their own. But Bole was going to regret being such a snotrag. Harry would see to it. By the time this class session was over, Bole was going to wish he'd heard of such a thing as loyalty to his own. 

Harry began walking between the rows of desks on the Slytherin half of the room, gathering up any parchments containing writing that even vaguely resembled Bole's messy scrawl. "Illegible," he said, shaking his head. "And this one. Oh, and this one, and . . . well, this isn't so very messy, is it?" 

Bronagh Shaw looked up hopefully, her blonde curls bobbing a little, at least until Harry began shaking his head again. "Still, you heard Bole, didn't you? Better safe than sorry. You'll have to begin your work over again, Miss Shaw." 

She looked crestfallen, but had more sense than Bole, all things considered. "Yes, sir." 

By the time Harry was finished, he'd gathered up parchments from all except three of the Slytherins. "So, in the interests of being fair to Bole," he announced, glaring, "that will be five points from Slytherin for each assignment I just had to collect. Everybody who lost a parchment will start the work over. _Now._ " 

Bole didn't. 

"Oh, and that'll be a week of detention with Mr Filch--that's seven full evenings, in case you aren't aware how long a week is, Bole--for disrespect. Now, unless you'd like to spend the remainder of your life with Mr Filch, _and_ lose Slytherin enough points that they'd just as soon see you at the bottom of the lake--not that they don't feel that way already, come to think of it-- _get to work!_ " 

Bole finally did, his lips quivering. 

Seeing that was like a balm to Harry's soul. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, October 28, 1998 ---- 9:12 p.m.**

"Yes, like that," said Severus, arching his back and gasping as he thrust his hips forward, his cock sinking into Harry's welcoming mouth, his balls lightly slapping against Harry's chin. "Ah . . . _yes,_ yes, oh, your tongue . . ." 

Severus came then, shouting, the world around him seeming to spin for a moment, his release was so intense. 

Really, Harry had taken to deep-throating him like a niffler to digging. Already, he was so good at it that if not for the slavery bond connecting them, Severus might be concerned that Harry was getting some practice on the side. 

Actually, he'd probably be worried about that even if Harry didn't already know how to give marvellous blow jobs. Harry was simply that attractive. If he and Severus had got together in the usual way--not that Severus could really imagine it happening--Severus would be constantly worried about Harry straying. 

The idea that Harry _couldn't_ , ever, was a steady source of satisfaction. 

As was the whole idea that Harry couldn't even lie to him, not without being found out. Sometimes, Severus thought that the wizards who had constructed _Cambiare Podentes_ had been simply brilliant. 

Harry pulled away from his cock, then. "Mmm. You're delicious." 

"No, you're delicious," said Severus without thinking. 

The moment the words left his mouth, some part of Severus was secretly appalled. He wasn't usually given to sweet nothings, as he'd heard them called. 

But with Harry, of course, such statements were hardly _nothings_. Severus and Harry would have started getting on a good deal sooner had Severus understood that Harry needed to hear that he was attractive. Harry liked hearing it. It made him happy, just as the quarters to treat as his own made him happy. 

And a happy Harry was one far, far more likely to be wantonly sexual with Severus. Severus had expected that to be true, hence the vault and all the rest of the things he'd arranged so that Harry could feel as free as possible. Of course, Severus had done all that for other reasons, also. If Harry was depressed and miserable, it would definitely keep them from crossing powers, so it was imperative that Severus find ways to make the slavery bond something bearable. 

It was the also the right thing to do, as Albus had said on more than one occasion. _Not_ the best argument to use on Severus, of course. He cared less for what was good and true and noble than for what was most likely to work to his own benefit. But in this case, the right thing to do had dovetailed perfectly with Severus' interests. 

Of _course_ he would do whatever it took to put Harry at ease and keep him that way. Severus would even scheme to that end, writing letter after letter to those stubborn goblins, making sure that he and he alone secured the rights to continue to use Harry's vault once Harry gave it up. Severus had known that _that_ particular vault number--James Potter's vault--would mean something special to Harry. 

And a Harry who was content with his life, even if it hadn't turned out the way he'd wanted, was the best thing for everyone concerned, including Severus. Especially Severus. Vanquishing the Dark Lord would be but one day in a lifetime, but Harry in his bed, eager, willing, _passionate . . ._ Severus was going to enjoy him for a long, long time. 

He was also going to enjoy the fact that Harry couldn't ever, ever stray. It didn't matter how gorgeous Harry's hard body got on account of all that flying, or how compellingly strong his innate magical powers eventually became. Qualities like those: deep-seated powers, a fit physique, eyes so green most witches would kill for them . . . in Harry's case, none of it mattered. 

It didn't even matter that after the defeat of the Dark Lord, Harry was destined to become a much-desired commodity, whether it be as lover or spouse or simply a notch on a wand. Witches and wizards alike would most likely _throw_ themselves at him. 

But _he_ would remain Severus' alone, no matter the temptations. 

And as long as Severus made sure that Harry's life continued to be enjoyable and fulfilling, Harry would continue to be very generous, sexually. And Severus would be the only one on the receiving end of that generosity. 

Definitely, his patience with Harry had paid off. 

As would more patience, Severus knew. 

Harry's current obsession with obedience was a case in point. Severus knew perfectly well that having Harry play the slave wasn't going to do a thing to help their powers cross more fully. How could it, when Severus didn't want a slave, and more particularly, didn't much care for the idea of Harry playing at being one? 

But Severus was allowing the fantasy, and even playing along with it, because it was the best thing to do, in the circumstances. Harry wasn't ready to hear that there was only one thing left that would help their powers cross completely. 

Only one more thing that Severus wanted from him. With him. 

Severus had been dreaming about it for months. Fantasising. Pulling himself off to the idea during most of those long showers he'd taken over the summer. It was what he'd thought of when he'd been with Renard. 

Both times. 

But Severus wanting it, even wanting it desperately, didn't make any difference. What mattered here was Harry. No matter how carefree and enthusiastic about sex Harry had become lately, he still hadn't completely recovered from what he'd gone through months ago in London. He still couldn't even endure the feeling of Severus' weight atop him. 

No question about it, then; Harry wasn't ready to bottom. 

And until he was, all the obedience in the world wasn't going to make any difference. 

Severus didn't want compliance, after all. He'd had _that_ from Harry back in late July, and it had been no good at all. Not for Severus, who'd had to coax an orgasm from his own reluctant cock, and not for Harry, who'd hated the idea of sex more than ever after asking Severus to all but force him. 

And it certainly hadn't done anything to help them cross powers. Only mutually satisfying sex would do that. Only hot, desperate, gasping sex that had both of them climaxing as they called one another's names. 

Because, of course, that was the only kind of sex that Severus wanted with Harry. 

Which reminded him. 

Severus pulled Harry to his feet and held him close for a moment, just enjoying the feel of his warm body, which fit so well into the contours of his own that it was like they were meant for one another. Which was ridiculous, of course. 

But Severus still liked the idea of it. More than he should, probably. 

"So, what can I do for you, hmm?" he asked, stroking a hand down Harry's bare back. "What sounds good?" 

Harry chuckled. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'd much rather have you tell me what _you_ want to do to me. Because, well, you know." 

Yes, Severus did know. 

And while he never had been one to find obedience for its own sake erotic, there was something distinctly appealing about having _Harry_ ask to be commanded. The trust inherent in the request, perhaps. 

Or the desire. 

"On your back then, on the bed," said Severus, growling slightly. "Hands behind your neck. Ankles slightly apart." 

Normally, he wouldn't attempt to control Harry's position in such detail, but he'd learned over the course of the past week that Harry _wanted_ him to. On a temporary basis only, of course. Just while he was trying to see if overt obedience would help the powers cross. 

But while Harry wanted that, Severus was happy to oblige. It kept Harry occupied, at any rate. Kept him from asking questions that Severus would have trouble answering. 

Questions about why their powers weren't crossing further. Questions about what Severus really wanted. 

Lying down at Harry's side, Severus ghosted a hand across his chest, lingering on the nipple that bore his mark. He leaned in for a kiss, revelling in the thought that his cock had been so recently--and so thoroughly--pleasured in the mouth he was tasting. Then he pulled back and softly whispered another command. 

"Say my name." 

Harry looked a bit puzzled. "Severus." 

Severus smiled down at him. "Now, whenever I do anything you like particularly well, you say my name. Just my name." 

"Severus," said Harry, sounding like he was rolling it over his tongue. 

"Am I doing something you like, already, then?" 

"I can tell you're going to." 

"Mmm, quite possibly." Severus shifted down on the bed, still lying alongside Harry, until his face was at cock-level. "Have I mentioned lately what a tasty morsel you've got here?" 

"What do I say when you do something I _don't_ like?" asked Harry dryly. "I don't think that morsel is such a good way to describe it." 

"A very satisfying mouthful, how's that?" 

"Severus," said Harry, thrusting his hips up. 

Severus made sure that Harry said very little other than his name, after that. Until finally, Harry gasped it out, moaning it all through his climax. 

Severus thought he'd never heard anything quite so gratifying. 

Afterwards, curled in bed together, huddled underneath the blankets as the dungeon grew chilly, Severus chuckled. He still didn't think that obedience was the key to crossing their powers, but he had to admit that he'd been enjoying the game immensely. 

"Ha," said Harry, turning to face him. "I know what you're thinking." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, you're deciding it wouldn't be so bad to have me come down to your office in the middle of the day, after all." 

"You really are determined to throw caution to the winds." 

"You said you didn't care who knew we were involved." 

"I thought you did care." 

Harry laughed. "Nobody's going to think we're lovers just because I go to your office once. Besides, don't you think . . . " Harry broke off to yawn. "We might do better on the obedience thing if we didn't go so long apart?" 

"All day isn't that long." 

Harry wriggled forward to nip at Severus' neck. "Isn't it? Don't you get horny? I do. Sometimes, all day seems like forever." Another nibble. "Don't you want me?" 

"All the time," said Severus, his voice deep and husky. 

"I'm yours. Just say when and where." 

Talk about temptation. "I'll consider it," promised Severus, pulling Harry's head onto his shoulder. "Ready to sleep?" 

"Yeah, guess so," said Harry, yawning again. His hand played over Severus' belly and thighs for a few moments, though. "Um, want to go to the Quidditch match with me, then? Sit in the staff section together?" 

Severus could have done without sitting through a Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff match. It was bad enough that Albus dragged him in to referee from time to time. That probably wouldn't happen again, not now that Harry was in charge of the Quidditch programme. 

Still, Harry had asked him to go. That by itself meant something, Severus thought. 

"I'd be delighted," he said, dropping a kiss on Harry's lips. 

A wasted kiss; Harry was already asleep. 

Perhaps that was better, though. Otherwise, Harry might wonder why Severus had been so pleased to be invited along to a Quidditch match, of all things. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, October 29, 1998 ---- 12:47 p.m.**

Harry glanced up, startled, when a seventh-year Slytherin walked up to the Head Table, a scroll in her hand. "Message for you, sir." 

Harry took the scroll she was extending, a little surprised. His first thought was that the message was from Dumbledore, but that was daft, of course. If the headmaster had anything to say to him, surely he'd just have come to lunch in the Great Hall. 

He was absent this afternoon. 

As was Severus. 

"Thank you, Miss Hemdrake." 

For a moment that lasted too long, she just stared at him. Clearly, she had some interest in his reaction to the scroll. But Harry was hardly going to open it in front of her. After a few seconds, she seemed to understand that. Nodding sharply, she turned on her heel and marched back down the aisle. 

Harry felt a pleasant warmth washing through him as soon as he read the scroll. _My office, the moment your teaching duties end._

Harry smiled, wishing he didn't have a class of second-years to get through before he could go to Severus. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, October 29, 1998 ---- 2:38 p.m.**

"You rang?" Harry was laughing as he closed the door behind him. His mood, already euphoric, only got better when he saw Severus casting a privacy charm. A strong one. "You know, I didn't really think you were going to take me up on my offer. I have to admit, though, it's pretty arousing to get a note like that in the middle of an otherwise boring meal--" 

"I didn't call you here for that," interrupted Severus, frowning. "I had a lunch meeting with my house today, Harry. Can you guess the main topic of discussion?" 

Harry shrugged as he sat down in the chair Severus was indicating. 

"It involved you." 

Oh. In that case, Harry probably could guess. "They don't like the Quidditch schedule I drew up?" Harry sighed, wondering if all the teams were complaining. "I know, I know, the first match of the season should have been set for earlier, but I didn't know I was in charge of that, too." 

Severus' tone was hard to read, Harry thought. Dry, but with an undercurrent of some darker emotion. "I can't decide if you're really this oblivious or if you know perfectly well what I'm talking about." 

That had Harry sitting up a bit straighter. "I can't lie to you, so--" 

"Perhaps I should mention that Charles Bole was the principal reason Slytherin asked to speak with me. Though perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the true reason has more to do with you." 

Harry's lips twisted. "What a little ferret. He couldn't even come to you himself if he had a problem with me?" 

"He was there." 

"But too much of a coward to talk with you without all his mates around," sneered Harry. "Not to mention that he should have come to me with his complaints! What does it have to do with you, anyway, unless somebody knows more about us than they're letting on!" 

"I'm his Head of House. Whom do you suggest he go to when he's having a serious problem?" 

"Serious problem," mocked Harry. "Aren't we dancing around the real issue, Severus? Points from Slytherin! And you said you wouldn't interfere!" 

"If points were my concern then I'd have investigated the matter last week, when I first began to notice the sudden decline," said Severus in a heavy voice. 

"Oh, so you noticed the decline and _didn't_ investigate it? Right." 

The sarcasm didn't go over well. 

"Long experience has taught me not to interfere when other teachers muck about with the house standings," said Severus through clenched teeth. "So I don't generally bother, no." 

"But I'm the exception, apparently!" retorted Harry. "No surprise there. The minute your house complained, you decided there was no reason why you couldn't force _me_ to do as you wish. Especially now, when I've even said, over and over, that I know I have to obey you! So fine, all right? You're in charge of me and if you want to abuse your power I can hardly stop you, so there'll be no more points from Slytherin, ever, no matter what they do, but don't come running to me if they all turn into pratty little hellions--oh, wait! They're already that!" 

"Are you quite finished?" asked Severus in a voice so frosty that it gave Harry the chills. 

"Well, that's up to you, isn't it?" Harry jumped to his feet. " _Am_ I finished?" 

"Sit back down!" barked Severus. 

"Yes, _sir_." 

Severus abruptly sighed, his hair swaying as he shook his head. "I didn't expect this conversation to be easy, but neither did I expect you to willfully misunderstand me. I do not care about the points. Is that clear?" 

Harry snorted. "Sure, it's clear. It's also a fucking lie, but oh, that's right, isn't it? You're allowed to lie to me!" 

Severus' lips thinned. "Very well, I _do_ care about the points, but they aren't the reason I summoned you here. You aren't treating young Charles Bole in any manner which could even remotely be termed appropriate. I imagine we both understand why that is. I'd have wanted to discuss your behaviour even if you'd never taken points on his account. If you had limited yourself to assigning detentions, for example." 

"So you're taking his side, without asking me what he did to lose points! Nice, Severus. Very professional. Now I feel like a valued member of the school staff, don't I?" 

"I'm on your side, Harry," said Severus in a heavy voice. "But you're quite correct that I've heard from the students and not from you. And so? Do you really wish to persuade me that your treatment of Mr Bole has been equitable?" 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Put like that, no. You've already made up your mind. And I don't care what you say, I _know_ it's the points that really have you acting like there's a bee up your arse--" 

"You're dealing so badly with your anger that you're endangering your reputation with students and staff alike, and you think my main concern is points?" 

"Look, it's _my_ anger, and I'll _deal_ with it however I like!" 

"No, you won't." 

"I thought you didn't want to tell me what to do! Changing your tune awfully fast, aren't you?" 

Severus leaned forward across his desk, his hands sweeping parchments out of the way. "I don't want to tell you what to do. But I am sworn to give you what you need, and right now, it's pretty damned clear that you need some advice!" 

"Oh, like I'd take advice from you about how to treat students." Harry actually laughed, that was so funny. In fact, he was only just realising exactly how ridiculous it was for Severus Snape, of all people, to be lecturing him this way. "You're the most unfair teacher the world's ever seen! _And_ you're no stranger to points taken for no reason at all!" 

Severus' eyes narrowed. "I am not the issue, here." 

"Sure you are." Harry smirked. "I'm making you the issue. What are you going to do about it, start ordering me around? You claim to hate that." 

Severus' face darkened with anger, but Harry didn't back down. He just kept staring at Severus, his expression defiant. 

After a moment, Severus drew in a deep breath as if trying to start over. "You compare your behaviour to mine, do you?" 

"Yeah," said Harry, sitting back now that he felt more in control of the situation. Severus couldn't stop him from giving nasty little Charles Bole what he deserved. Hell, he couldn't even criticise Harry over it, not unless he wanted to be the world's biggest hypocrite. 

"You hated Bole on sight on account of his resemblance to someone who had hurt you," said Severus, sounding cool and methodical, almost like one of the barristers Harry had sometimes seen on television. 

Severus' observation was true, of course, but it also kind of missed the point. "Look, you can't expect me to have _liked_ seeing him come here, but it's not as though I launched into him on the first day of class like _some teachers I could name._ I wasn't gunning for him. But when he started being rude and defiant and refusing to answer questions about how his precious Dark Lord might have, oh, broken a law or two along the way, what did you want me to do? Pat him on the head and give him a sweet?" 

"If he's in need of correction, by all means discipline him as you see fit," said Severus coolly. "But you've gone beyond that, here. You've made this child your particular target." 

"And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" muttered Harry, under his breath. 

Severus' nostrils flared. "Yes, I suppose I would." 

"Yeah, you were a right arse and you know it," said Harry, feeling vindicated, somehow. 

Severus took that better than Harry would have expected. "My behaviour with you was unreasonable at times, yes." 

"At times?" 

"Reprehensible, even," continued Severus as though Harry hadn't spoken. "But that's exactly my point. If you can recognize the behaviour as ill-done when it comes from me, you ought to be able to see that your own conduct these past few weeks leaves much to be desired." 

"Oh, that's nice." Harry clenched both his fists, then shoved his hands into the folds of his cloak. "Turn it all around on me." 

"There is, in fact, nowhere else to turn," said Severus quietly. "Harry . . . I know that this isn't what you want to hear, but it is the truth. The fact that you have suffered under unfair teachers . . . that fact does not give you leave to be an arse, yourself." 

"So, it's a case of 'Do as I say, not as I do,' is it?" mocked Harry. "Except, as we both know, I damned well have to do what you say, whatever you say, don't I, now?" 

"Stop making _Podentes_ the issue." 

Severus' voice was level, but that only made Harry all the more annoyed. "Whatever. It's still a case of 'Do as I say--" 

"It's a case of asking you to consider whether you wish to behave like me. To _become_ like me," retorted Severus. "Harry, my concern at the moment isn't _Podentes_ , and it certainly isn't house rank. I'm concerned about _you_." 

"Sure you are." 

"You're such a teenager, sometimes." 

That was too much for Harry to take. "Listen, I'm not the one who goes about smashing people's assignments and--" 

"No, you just confiscate them on account of penmanship, apparently." 

Harry clenched his teeth. "I let him start it over, at least. That day in fifth year when I finally got something right, you waited until there was nothing left in my cauldron and class was over and I'd have no choice but to take a zero on the best potion I'd brewed that whole year, hell, that I'd ever brewed, not to put too fine a point on it, and why was that? Because you hassled me if I so much as breathed wrong in your fucking class, and--" 

"Trying to make this about me isn't going to change the fact that what you're doing to Bole is going to end up harming you far more than him." 

"Oh, it is not--" 

"Do you want your life defined by the depth of your bitterness?" asked Severus, his voice both louder and strangely pleading, that time. "Do you want to become a dried husk of a man, so consumed by your need for vengeance that you'll do anything to obtain it? Do you want to become the kind of person who will think nothing of tormenting a small child?" 

No, Harry didn't. Even through his anger he could see Severus' point, but somehow, that didn't matter. 

"Look, like it or not, Bole deserves it," he said, glaring. "He's a nasty little piece of work, and if you try to defend him again, I just might have to sick up!" 

"I haven't been defending him," said Severus, clearly exasperated. "And you're right about Bole. He comes from a family of Death Eaters and shows every sign of intending to follow them into service to the Dark Lord. You have reason to dislike him; I've no doubt of it. But that doesn't make your persecution of him right!" 

"Damned sight more right than yours ever was!" 

"Because I never had any reason to dislike you?" 

"Not any reason to do with me instead of James!" 

"As far as I was concerned, you were as detestable in your own way as Bole is in his." 

Harry's mouth dropped open. "What did I ever do to you, I'd like to know!" 

Severus began counting on his fingers as he spoke. "You talked incessantly during lessons. You acted as though potions couldn't possibly be worth the bother of learning. You repeatedly wasted valuable ingredients, and I thought you were also stealing them. You broke school rules with impunity and wandered about after curfew as though you owned the castle itself. You selfishly sneaked off to Hogsmeade when we had every reason to believe that a madman was out for your blood! You--" 

"Nobody at Hogwarts had told me that!" Of course, Arthur Weasley had, but Harry didn't feel like explaining that. 

"Yes, you made it clear that you knew better than the adults which rules, if any, should apply to you. Not to mention that you lied straight to my face when I caught you coming back. And we certainly won't pay mind to the fact that, however inadvertently, you helped raise the Dark Lord to a terrible new reign. I couldn't possibly have resented that! It's not as though it put my life in any danger or exposed me to the mercies of a man who has none--" 

"All right, all right, I get it," shouted Harry. He couldn't listen to any more of that. "You hate me, fine!" 

"Don't be ridiculous!" 

"I was a pratty little snotrag myself, constantly getting people killed, and you probably should have assigned me twice as many detentions!" 

"Harry--" 

"Though you forgot to mention that all that crap came later. You didn't have one valid reason to make fun of me and call me a celebrity on my first class with you," said Harry in a nasty voice. "At least I waited until Bole really _did_ deserve a dressing down. But not you. Oh, no. You can do as you please! But not me. After all, I'm just a slave! _Your_ slave!" 

"Stop changing the subject!" 

Harry abruptly shoved his chair back and stood up. "But that is the subject. The only one that matters, since you have me by the balls, here. Literally. If I don't obey you, people will die! So, fine. Anything you want, Severus. I'll treat Charles Bole like he can do no wrong, and while I'm at it, I'll make sure Slytherin gets all the emeralds your little heart desires. Anything else, hmm? Would you like me to suck your cock straight down my throat before I go?" 

Severus' lips had gone white. For a long moment, he said nothing at all, and then he spoke in a low, harsh voice. "I don't deserve that." 

Harry curled a lip. "You know what? You're right. You don't." 

With that, Harry was stalking away, robes whirling, and slamming the Potions Office door on his way out. 

  
  
  
  



	37. Chapter 37

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 30, 1998 ---- 8:25 a.m.**

Harry didn't really want to eat breakfast with Severus, but that _teenager_ comment the day before had really rankled. It probably would be stupid and immature to refuse to share a meal, considering that they lived together and had to go on doing so. 

And if he'd been mature enough to share a _bed_ with the man the night before, he could certainly sit down with him for breakfast and make polite, distant chit-chat. 

"Didn't think you were joining me," said Severus as he crisply folded back a page of his newspaper and laid it aside. 

"Your table's closer than the Great Hall," said Harry, stressing the first word. Because it was Severus' table, wasn't it? It would never be Harry's. Harry couldn't own anything, couldn't even decide on his _own_ if he wanted to discipline a student. 

Well, not a Slytherin student. No doubt Severus wouldn't bother stepping in on behalf of any other kind. 

He saw rather than heard Severus give a deep sigh, like Harry was really being very tedious. 

So much for polite conversation. Harry almost started gritting his teeth. "Can I order, or do I need permission first?" 

"You don't need permission to be childish, apparently." 

Harry crossed his arms, using the balls of his feet to shove his chair back a little. "Fine. I'll starve." 

"Up to you," said Severus, picking up his newspaper. 

_Damn._ That hadn't gone the way Harry had expected. He waited a few minutes, but Severus just calmly kept reading, ignoring Harry entirely. Harry wasn't about to give in, but it was silly to go hungry, so after a little bit longer, he stood up, intending to order some food from the table upstairs. Maybe he would take his meals apart from Severus, he thought. Except for when they both ate at the Head Table, of course. 

He hadn't taken a single step, though, when a faint noise interrupted his train of thought. 

Severus recognised it at once. Not that it was a noise they heard very often. "Someone's knocking on the door upstairs." 

Well, at least now Harry had an excuse to leave. A good one. "I'll just go see who it is." 

"Yes, you do that," said Severus, but the critical gleam in his eyes said more. He knew Harry was going to do more than just answer the door. He knew that Harry was going to eat, and he thought it very childish indeed that Harry hadn't done so already. 

The worst part was that by then, it seemed childish to Harry, too. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but his idea of showing Severus he wasn't really like a teenager had somehow got twisted inside out. And giving in to the urge to tell Severus to fuck off wouldn't help matters. 

Harry kept his lips clamped together as he left the room. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 30, 1998 ---- 8:37 a.m.**

"Ron," said Harry weakly, so surprised he couldn't believe his eyes. "Hermione. What are the two of you doing here?" 

Ron laughed as he strode inside. "I told you he wouldn't remember." 

"Remember what?" 

It was Hermione who answered that. "You invited us. First Quidditch match of the year, right?" 

Harry scratched his head and absently waved for them to sit down. Then, because that left nowhere for him, he drew his wand and quickly conjured a third chair. "Uh . . . good to see you. I'm glad you came, so don't take this wrong, but what are you talking about? I don't remember inviting you. No offence." 

"Maybe _invited_ is a little strong," said Hermione, smiling at him in a way that proved she hadn't taken any offence. "When we were visiting a little while after your birthday, you said that we should plan to come to the first match." 

Oh. That did sound like something Harry would say. And no wonder he couldn't recall it; he'd been awfully depressed all through that part of the summer. Not that he was feeling wonderful now, come to think of it. 

"Well, good," he said in a jovial voice, trying to cover up his annoyance with Severus in particular and life in general. No point in depressing his friends. Besides, they'd been concerned about him the last time they'd seen him; their letters afterwards had made that clear. He didn't want them worrying again. No point in that. 

"You're awfully early; match doesn't start until eleven, but that's good," he said. "We can have a chat." 

"Our idea too, mate," said Ron. "Don't suppose there's any hope of tea?" 

"Sure. Whatever you want. In fact, I haven't had breakfast yet. Want anything besides tea? You, Hermione?" 

"Yerba mate," said Hermione. "If the elves have that." 

"She's been working her way through a book on Argentine foods," said Ron. "I can't tell you how many South American restaurants we've tried." 

"Four. Though I'm looking for some new ones." 

Ron rolled his eyes. "Serves me right for letting her choose a honeymoon destination." 

Hermione sniffed. "I just want to research the matter thoroughly, in advance." 

That sounded like Hermione, all right. Harry chuckled, his earlier annoyance fading. This was almost like old times. Easy conversation. Good friends. Smiling, Harry thought of what he wanted for breakfast, remembering to tack on _yerba mate_ , whatever that was. 

Harry's fine mood didn't last long, though. 

"Er, mate? " asked Ron as plates and cups began to appear. "Shouldn't you be having breakfast with Snape?" 

"Severus," said Harry. "He's not your teacher any longer. But to answer you, no. The contract doesn't say we have to live in one another's pockets." He snatched up a piece of wheat toast and bit into it, shrugging. 

"Contract?" 

"Slavery contract," said Harry, his eyes challenging his friend. "Do you really want to talk about it? 'Cause I don't. Ha. I might even get punished for saying too much, so enough said." 

"Punished?" Hermione set down the odd beverage she'd been drinking through what looked like a reed. "If he's been--" 

Harry scoffed. Not even his anger with Severus could make him malign the man like that. "Don't worry about that. I meant the contract." 

"Magical contract, of course," murmured Hermione. 

"I knew you didn't mean him," said Ron staunchly. "Not after what I saw, visiting you when you were laid up." 

Harry didn't know if he meant the suffering the contract had meted out, or the way Severus had taken care of him. He decided he'd rather not ask, either. He stared eating his eggs, and avoided meeting his friends' eyes. 

"How are you?" asked Hermione after a long pause, right at the same time Ron spoke up. "So, who do you like for the match?" 

"Hufflepuff," said Harry without hesitating. "Partly because Ravenclaw's a little over-confident, but mostly because they've got a really good Keeper this year. She won't let a thing get through." 

"Seeker's really the one who matters." 

"No, no." Harry shook his head. He'd learned twice as much from teaching Quidditch as he'd ever learned playing it. "Might seem that way at times, but it's a team sport for a reason . . ." 

Hermione picked up her drink and began sipping it again, her gaze speculative as Harry and Ron talked Quidditch, but at least she didn't ask again about how Harry was doing, these days. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 30, 1998 ---- 10:40 a.m.**

"I miss Hogwarts," said Ron as they settled into their seats at the Quidditch pitch. Gryffindor section, of course. Harry supposed it really didn't matter much, since Gryffindor wasn't playing. 

"You didn't feel that way about school when you were here," said Hermione as she crossed her legs and neatly arranged her robes over them. 

Ron lifted his shoulders. "Yeah, I know. But now . . . this place even _smells_ great, you know? Harry's really lucky to get to work here." 

"Yeah, lucky," said Harry. He knew he'd sounded more sarcastic than he'd intended when Hermione shot him a quick glance. "Well, how do you expect me to feel?" 

"You seem on edge." Hermione's gaze was piercing. "What's wrong?" 

Harry could have given her an earful, but this was hardly the place, even if he'd wanted to talk with her. Which he didn't. 

"Oh . . ." she slowly said, as if just realising something. "I'm sorry, Harry. We just headed over to Gryffindor without thinking about it, but perhaps you should be sitting with the other staff?" 

"I told you, we don't live in each other's pockets!" Harry snapped, thinking of how he'd invited Severus to sit with him. Well, that had obviously been called off in any case, right? Considering they were barely speaking. It wasn't as though he had ditched Severus for Ron and Hermione. 

"I didn't mean anyone in particular," said Hermione quietly as she leaned over towards him. "But you obviously took it that way. Harry, if Ron and I have stuck our foot in, dropping by when you weren't expecting us . . . listen, we'll understand if you need to go sit with . . . er, sit in another section." 

"I don't need to do any such thing." Harry reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a couple of wrapped sweets he'd stowed there a few days back. "Here, have these. You're looking too sour." 

"Harry--" 

"Leave him alone," said Ron, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Don't you know yet that a man wants to enjoy a match in peace?" 

Hermione fell silent, but Harry wasn't sure it was because of what Ron had just said. The section they were sitting in was beginning to fill up, after all, and Hermione had too much sense to discuss Harry's personal business when students were all around. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 30, 1998 ---- 11:55 a.m.**

Hufflepuff won, just as Harry had predicted. 

"Should have found some way to lay down a bet," Ron was grumbling as they climbed down from the stands. 

"I won't speculate if I think you're going to do that. Not professional. And with your brothers?" 

"I wouldn't tell them!" 

"You wouldn't mean to," said Harry, glowering a little. "But you know Fred and George." 

"Yeah." Ron's Adam's apple visibly bobbed. "Speaking of which, they told me again to let you know how sorry they are." 

For not taking a gift as it was intended, or for letting _Ginny_ overhear them, too? Harry didn't bother asking that. Ron had been very apologetic when he'd explained during one of his visits. More like horrified, really. He'd known how important it was that this secret stay that way. And Ginny, he'd said, was really worried about Snape mistreating Harry.

Sighing, Harry had told Ron to say that Severus was being very reasonable about everything, and Ginny wasn't to be upset. 

Now, thinking about the twins, Harry found he wasn't nearly as angry, any longer. They hadn't meant to hurt him, he knew. And at least they'd finally shut up about the whole thing. According to Ron's letters, coming every so often, not even Molly was aware of "those things we talked about."

Harry glanced at Ron, shrugging. "As long as they didn't offer me free goods off their shelves again." He said that lightly, but with an undercurrent of meaning. 

"Um . . ." They were down on the grass by then; Ron pulled Harry away from the crowds heading back to the castle. He didn't speak until they were a good distance from the students and other staff. "They actually wanted me to ask you something." 

"Yeah, I guess I've forgiven them," said Harry, sighing. He'd like to hold a grudge against them for a lot longer, but they hadn't intended him harm, so it just wasn't in him to keep resenting their misguided efforts to be fair to their "investor." Not that he ever had been that. "I should have answered their card. But I just couldn't, not then." 

"Uh, great, Harry," said Ron faintly. "I know they'll be delighted. But they actually wanted me to ask you about something else." 

Harry couldn't imagine what. He gestured for Ron to get on with it. 

Ron swallowed hard again, wincing that time. "It's just that Snape is their partner now, and he's not exactly being a silent partner like they intended to make you, right? He's kind of making their lives hell, and they were hoping you could . . . er, ask him to ease up a bit?" 

Hermione made a snorting noise. 

"What?" 

"I hardly think that destroying their stock of love potions is unreasonable, Ron. Those are illegal, and you have to expect that a Potions Master is going to take a dim view of amateurs brewing them even if they weren't. And insisting on age-verification spells for the sale all aphrodisiacs isn't exactly bizarre, either. If you ask me, your two brothers were getting less responsible every week, and it's a good thing Snape stepped in!" 

"Nobody asked you, then!" 

"He also layered spells onto the Skiving Snackboxes so they can't be used on school grounds," added Hermione. "And I can't say I blame him." 

"You're a little prissy," Harry had to say. He had some fond memories of Skiving Snackboxes. 

Ron stood up straight and flashed Hermione a triumphant grin. "Ha. See? Maybe you can't understand, but Harry does." He turned his body towards Harry. "So you'll talk to him, then?" 

"Actually, no." 

As Ron's expression fell, Hermione's developed a smirking air. 

"But . . . why?" 

"Because you're daft if you think he'd listen to me about that. Or anything," added Harry bitterly. 

"You aren't getting on?" asked Hermione, all sympathy. 

"I . . . well . . . _fuck_ ," said Harry, wrapping his cloak more tightly around himself. "I . . . things were fine, you know? They were. And then he turned into a prick, that's all. Why couldn't things have stayed the way they were in Cologne? But then again, Wolverhampton ruined that." 

"Wolverhampton was awful," said Hermione while Ron nodded solemnly. "Harry, I know you. You aren't doing something daft like blaming yourself, are you?" 

"Well, whose fault do you think it is that I haven't been able to do what I'm supposed to do, yet?" exclaimed Harry. "Not that I can talk about it, all right? Contract specifically says I can't tell you about any of the sex stuff unless there's a dire need. And since I don't know what that means for certain, I'm not about to risk it." 

"Let's go sit out by the lake," said Hermione, taking his arm. "The craggy rock, remember?" 

Harry did. "Weren't you listening? I can't talk to you any longer." 

"Not about some things, no. I understand. But you can talk about the rest, Harry. Why don't you start by telling us what turned him into a . . . er, prick? Unless that has to do with--" 

Harry raised his shoulders a little. "No, no it doesn't. We don't agree about some classroom issues, actually. And he's . . . well, he's being totally unreasonable, which you'd think is just like him, right? Except, it's not usually." 

"Well, maybe Ron and I can help you figure out what to do." 

Harry almost groaned. He didn't want to tell them about his argument with Severus. But how could he refuse, really? He'd indulged his anger for almost a full day, now. Nursed it, really. And what good was that doing? Mention of Wolverhampton had brought him back to concentrating on the only thing that mattered. 

Crossing powers so it wouldn't . . . so it _couldn't,_ happen again. Ever again. 

And to do that, he had to start getting along with Severus. He couldn't stay angry. 

"Yeah, all right. Craggy rock," he said, grimacing. "At least this time Ron won't be left out and wondering what we're really up to." 

"Oh, he never thought--" 

Ron's averted gaze was probably what tipped her off. "Ron Weasley, you _did!_ I can't believe you could be so daft--" 

"You were just as daft when I was having private chats with Lavender Brown sixth year--" 

"Because you were _snogging_ her, every chance you got!" 

Harry cleared his throat. "I'd much rather let you two fight this out and forget all about my own problem, but I can't do that. Somebody else could die." 

"Oh, _Harry_." Reaching up, Hermione kissed him on the cheek. "We'll get it all sorted, whatever it is. I promise." 

Harry wasn't so sure she could keep that promise. She didn't know how stubborn Severus could be. 

  
  
  
  



	38. Chapter 38

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 30, 1998 ---- 1:40 p.m.**

As Harry stared down into the stone bowl of the pensieve, he started wondering what he was going to get out of doing this. It wasn't as though he didn't already know exactly what Charles Bole was like. He had no interest at all in viewing his memories of the snide little prat. But Hermione had been keen on it; Harry would have bet that she believed in Muggle counselling, too. 

He hadn't been able to explain his reluctance to Hermione. Not without getting into the details of just why the sight of Bole set his nerves on edge. And he wasn't about to do _that_. None of her damned business. Nobody's business, really, what had happened to him in London. He wouldn't even have told Severus if there'd been any way to avoid it. 

So, out at the lake, he'd tried to explain his problem with Severus by focusing on . . . well, his problem with _Severus._ Nothing to do with Charles Bole, right? The real issue was the way Severus was stepping all over Harry's teaching assistant duties. 

But Hermione hadn't been willing to leave it at that. She kept pressing for details, saying that yes, Snape knew how to be unreasonable, but he surely believed he had reasons for questioning the points Harry had taken away from Slytherin. So what had made Harry decide to take those points? What, exactly? 

Harry had told her as best he could. Bole was disrespectful and refused to do his assignments properly. 

Then she'd asked what he meant by _properly._

So he'd explained about the way Bole had ignored questions that criticized Death Eaters. And he'd mentioned the penmanship. And then for good measure, he'd told them about finding Bole sneaking to the kitchens, that time. 

Ron had been a lot more supportive than Hermione, all things considered. "That's right, Harry," he'd said, nodding his head. "You have to hold those Slytherins to a strict standard. They'll push for any advantage they can get, otherwise. They'll cheat, you know that." 

Hermione had sighed. "You didn't think sneaking to the kitchens was so evil when we were students, Ron." 

" _We_ aren't Slytherins." 

"If Harry's applying the point system using _that_ criterion, it's no wonder Snape has something to say about it." 

"I can't believe you're taking Snape's side instead of Harry's!" Ron had said, raising his voice. "You _know_ how biased Snape always was about points!" 

"I'm not taking Snape's side," Hermione had snapped. "I'm just saying that Snape has a point of view, too. And if Harry wants to get along with him, which _is_ the purpose of this conversation, I believe, not the counters, then it's best for Harry to understand that point of view. Even if he doesn't agree with it." 

Unfortunately, that all made sense. Harry would have preferred to stick to Ron's assessment of the situation, which basically boiled down to Slytherins being gits, but that wouldn't really solve anything. "Well, how am I supposed to understand Severus' point of view? In the first place, I don't know what the Slytherins told him, and in the second place, they wouldn't tell _me_ even if I asked, which I'm not about to do!" 

"All true." Hermione had chewed her lip for a little while. "I know! Why don't you use a pensieve to watch yourself with Bole? That won't show you exactly what he said when he complained, but it might give you an unbiased view of your encounters." 

Harry had scowled. "I don't need an unbiased view. I know what happened." 

"You know how it seemed to you at the time, of course." Hermione had given him an understanding smile. "But at least seeing another view of your conversations with Bole might help you pick up on what _he_ told Snape, right?" 

"Severus," Harry had snapped. It was getting old, hearing them call the man _Snape_ like that. "And fine. You might have something, I guess, with the whole pensieve idea." 

Which explained how they'd got to where they were now, standing in Dumbledore's office, the stone basin on its pedestal sort of staring at them. 

"Good of the headmaster to leave you to it," said Ron in a bracing voice. 

Of course he'd left them to it. Dumbledore hadn't even questioned Harry about his request for a pensieve. He'd just nodded in that sage way he had, and murmured, "Anything you need, my boy, anything you need," as he'd made his way across the floor and out of his office. He'd turned back at the door, though. "Wonderful Quidditch match, Harry. I can see the difference you've made in the programme." 

Normally, the praise would have meant quite a bit. Harry had wondered for weeks if he was doing all right with his lessons out on the pitch. But now, he had more important things on his mind. 

"Thanks," he said, trying to smile. 

Dumbledore seemed to understand that Harry wanted to be alone with his friends. And the pensieve. He quietly closed the door after himself as he left. 

"Er . . .Should Hermione and I leave too, you think?" 

Harry shook his head. "No. It's all right." Then he understood. "Oh, you're hungry?" 

Ron looked relieved to hear Harry mention food. Well, they'd all missed lunch. Not that Harry was hungry at all. "Dumbledore's table'll probably give you whatever you ask for. Just speak clearly and tap it with your wand," he said absently. 

"Are you all right, Harry?" 

He nodded as he glanced at Hermione. "Just not looking forward to this." 

And no wonder. He'd never seen his own memory in a pensieve before, and besides, it had just occurred to him that if he wasn't very careful withdrawing his thoughts, he might end up spending time with the wrong Bole. 

The thought of seeing _that_ was enough to set Harry's stomach churning. 

But no reason why he should end up back in that grotty room in London. He just had to be very clear about what he wanted to see. 

Sighing, Harry lifted his wand to his temple and pulled out a long, thick strand of his memories. It came out a sickly greenish colour, pulsating slightly as he waved it into the pensieve. Harry held his breath until it vanished into the mist in the basin. 

Nothing for it now but to plunge in, right? Harry didn't want to, but the prospect of continuing to fight with Severus all the time . . . that was even worse, and not just because it might result in more tragedies like Wolverhampton. Harry also just plain didn't like it. For personal reasons. 

But then again, who _would_ like feeling upset all the time? Harry wanted to get back to the way things had been, before. He wanted to get on with Severus. 

Bracing himself, Harry leaned over the stone basin and thrust his face into the whirling fog of memories. 

It seemed like he fell a long way, the journey taking forever, but then he suddenly gained his feet and found himself in the Defence classroom. 

A dark-haired man was standing, his back to Harry, bending forward to loom over a student who was sitting at a desk; he was saying something. The fabric of his robe was draped over his bum, outlining it, and Harry's first thought was, _Wow. Nice arse he's got._

Then the man stood up and turned to come down the aisle more, and Harry saw the man's face. 

He almost yanked himself completely out of the pensieve, he was so shocked. 

Himself. The man with the tight, firm arse was . . . _himself._

Harry's mouth fell open. He'd never thought of himself as someone with a nice arse. When he thought about his looks, he was mostly thinking of his face. His messy hair. 

But he did have a nice arse, as it turned out. 

At that moment, Bryerson took a thin book from his breast pocket and flipped it open. Harry recognised it as his daily agenda, where he kept track of parent conferences and such. This time, though, when Bryerson read what it said, he blanched. 

Oh. So that's how he had found out about his fiancée being ill. He'd got a message about it, somehow. 

In just a moment more, Bryerson was gone and Harry was left to supervise the class on his own. For a few moments he just walked up and down the aisle between the students. Bit boring to watch, really. But Harry knew what was coming next; Bole was going to cheat on his test--or try, anyway--and Harry was going to catch him at it. 

That wasn't quite what happened, though. First, Harry saw himself staring at the Slytherin half of the room, his eyes narrowed in a way that really looked quite . . . hateful, actually. And then he settled his gaze on the corner, on Bole, and it looked like all that hatred was boiling inside him. Boiling, churning, until Harry's hands clenched and it almost looked like he was thinking of drawing his wand. 

_On a student._

An unpleasant student, true. Bole wasn't going to grow up to become the kind of man that Harry could respect. But that wasn't the point, was it? 

As Harry watched himself, one thing became glaringly clear. His other self was just waiting for Bole to do something, anything, that Harry could pounce on. It didn't even matter what. He was obviously out for blood. 

When Harry saw himself get some, he felt almost ill. Yes, Bole had glanced contemptuously at a Muggleborn girl in the class. But that was all he did: just glance. He didn't offer the sort of outright insult Malfoy would have, or make an attempt to sabotage her schoolwork. But Harry wasted no time before raking Bole over the proverbial coals. Taunting him, really. Almost egging him on, as if Harry had wanted him to yell, to fight back, so that that could be punished, too. 

It reminded Harry of the way Severus had spoken to him, back when Harry had been his student. And the fact that Harry had been treated badly, himself, didn't mean that he should do the same to Bole, no matter how odious the little twerp was. 

No, it probably meant that Harry should really know better. 

Things only got uglier, after that. Bole stayed after on Harry's command, and Harry heard himself being absolutely vicious. And then the scene shifted until Harry was standing in a hallway, almost yelling at Bole, and Harry was surprised to see that he was absolutely huge compared to the first-year. He positively towered over him. Strange to see, really. Harry had always thought of himself as short. And he still was shorter than Severus . . . but he could see now that he must look very frightening to Bole, who was practically quaking, and trying to cover it with bravado. But Harry just kept on leaning over him, advancing in a threatening manner every time Bole took a step back. 

Again, an awful lot like Severus in years past. 

And what had caused Harry to be so angry, to be taking points and sneering that he needed to be called _sir?_ Well, London, of course. But that wasn't _this_ Bole's fault. All this Bole had done on this particular night was sneak off to the kitchens. Not such a heinous offence. How many times had Harry done the very same thing? 

And there Harry was, berating Bole, apparently oblivious to the irony that he'd taken on the role of tormentor, this time. Taken it on almost gleefully, from the look of him. 

Harry heard himself openly insulting Bole, just as Severus had once done to him. And then he said things that were even worse, predicting that the other Slytherins would end up punishing Bole for the point losses. A train of thought he obviously relished, since when the scene jumped back into the classroom, Harry was repeating the sentiment. That time, there was no mistaking the gleam of anticipation in his eyes. Shining bright as emeralds, they were, as he stared at Bole, but the colour was ugly, because Harry was being ugly. 

His true feelings about Bole couldn't have been plainer. Harry wanted the Slytherins to beat the child to a bloody pulp, or worse. In fact, Harry thirsted for it. 

And all this on account of _penmanship?_

Of course, it wasn't really about penmanship at all. It was about things the younger Bole had no control over. No knowledge of, even. That much was obvious from the look on Bole's face every time Harry started in on him. 

_Why me?_ he was obviously thinking. _What did I ever do?_

Harry remembered thinking exactly that, especially during his first year, whenever Severus would start in on him during class. 

Of course, he didn't think he had sulked the way Bole was doing. And unlike Bole, Harry _really_ hadn't done a single thing to deserve Severus' mistreatment. Bole was no innocent angel. Harry knew perfectly well that he wanted to become a Death Eater. That he thought Voldemort could do no wrong. 

Harry knew that Bole would almost certainly approve of Harry getting tortured, if he knew. 

So it wasn't as though Harry really cared what _Bole_ thought of him. He was never going to get on with him, that much was obvious. The other students, though . . . 

The expressions on their faces gave him pause. Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, they looked wary. Like they didn't know why Harry had it in for Bole, but he obviously did, and considering how little reason he had, any one of them could be next. 

He saw how little Diana Stebbins leaned to one side, away from Harry, whenever Harry passed close. Saw how other students went still, tensing if Harry's gaze swept over them. 

Obviously, he seemed unreasonable to the students. 

No . . . He had _been_ unreasonable. 

And after he'd worried so much about stepping into the classroom! He'd been worried that the students wouldn't respect him, but it had never once crossed his mind that he might act in ways so little deserving of respect. 

Feeling slightly ill, Harry struggled to raise his head, to stand up straight. The pensieve didn't want to let him go; Harry had to jerk wildly to break free. He stood panting, looking down into the swirling mists. 

Suddenly, Ron was at his side. "All right there, Harry?" 

"Yeah," said Harry, almost croaking. He tried again. "Yeah." 

"You . . . er, you find out anything useful?" 

"Only that I'm no better than Snape, after all." Sighing, Harry crossed to a chair and dropped into it. 

"That's ridiculous--" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Snape, Harry? A little while ago, you were reminding us to call him Severus." 

"Severus, right. Of course. I got caught in the past a bit, is all. I . . . um, well, the part I didn't tell you before is that Bole reminds me of . . . er, some unpleasant memories. And no, I don't want to talk about it. The point is, I didn't want to be anywhere near him." Harry sighed. "I was ignoring him at first, but Bryerson kept pestering me to make sure I helped all the students, right?" 

"So you did," prompted Hermione. "And?" 

Harry didn't want to go into it. Actually, he was fairly sure she wouldn't believe he'd been quite so . . . calculating in his dealings with Bole. Seeing the scenes from an outside perspective had made that excruciatingly clear. Those complaints Harry had had, about penmanship or respect or sneaking out to the kitchens . . . those were nothing but pretexts. 

And Harry had been looking for them, so that he could make the child as miserable as possible. 

And he saw now, too, that it was no co-incidence that he'd started when he had. As long as Bryerson had been around, Harry had known better than to give vent to his feelings about having to tolerate Bole's presence twice each week. But almost as soon as the man had left, Harry had given in to his urge to retaliate. To be unfair. To make himself feel better by using the younger Bole as a substitute for his brother. There was probably a fancy word for what he'd done. Hermione would probably know it, too. Not that Harry needed to hear it. 

But he did think that he needed her to understand what he'd done, if not why. 

Her and Ron, both. They were his friends. He might not be able to talk about being assaulted, but that was about something that had been done to him, not what he himself had done. 

This other, with Bole . . . it _was_ about himself, and what he was capable of. 

He wasn't any better than Severus, when it came right down to it. He'd given in to the same terrible urge, the same longing for revenge. 

"Go ahead and look," said Harry weakly, angling his head a little to indicate the pensieve. "You too, Ron. And then . . . oh, God. I don't even know." 

Hermione gave him a doubtful look. "Memories are very personal. Are you certain you want me to see?" 

_Memories are very personal_. Yeah, they were. And that was all he needed, a reminder of how he'd violated Severus' privacy that time. A reminder, as if he needed it, that he wasn't nearly as perfect as the papers sometimes made out. Well, when they weren't calling him mental, that was. 

Though come to think of it, his behaviour toward Bole couldn't really be called sane, could it? Not completely. 

"Yes, I want you to see." Harry still wasn't hungry, but he thought maybe a distraction would help him get through this. "You and Ron go in together, all right? While I get some lunch." 

Getting up, he moved toward Dumbledore's table and asked it for a sandwich. Something simple. Just cheese on wheat bread, with a little mayonnaise. 

He got it on a plate that purred every time he touched it. 

Hermione looked shaken when she raised her head from the pensieve. Ron looked even worse. Like he'd flown too many laps around the pitch. "Blimey, mate! What . . . I don't even think that was you! Didn't know you had an--" 

"A what?" 

Ron looked to the side. "Sorry." 

"A _what?_ " 

"Evil twin, that's what. You . . . you were acting just like . . ." 

"Yeah, told you," said Harry, setting aside what remained of his sandwich. "I always thought I was . . . well, I don't generally think that highly of myself, you know. But I did always think I was above treating somebody else the same way Severus treated me. But . . . obviously I'm not." 

Ron was at his side almost at once, kneeling down by the side of Harry's chair, his face tilted up, his expression earnest. "Don't talk that way. It's the spell, don't you see? It's just what we feared at first, remember? We thought maybe _Cambiare Podentes_ was going to make you switch bodies or something with Snape? Back when we didn't know a thing about what it all meant? Well, something like that must be going on. Not bodies, of course, but you're absorbing a little bit of his personality, and it's not your fault, and--" 

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that's a load of bollocks," interrupted Harry. "It'd be easy to say that the spell made me do it, but it wouldn't be true. That was me in the pensieve, Ron. Just me." 

Hermione was kind enough not to dwell on what he'd done, or ask him why he hated Bole so much. Or perhaps she was just focussing on what really mattered. She was good at that. "What did Severus say about it?" 

Harry had to struggle to recall. When he thought about his conversation with Severus, most of what he remembered was his own anger. Righteous anger, really, because who was Severus to be lecturing him about fairness? 

"Um, mostly that it had to stop, I think. That he was worried about me. But I didn't believe that. I was sure he was just annoyed about the points." Harry sighed. "And then I went off like a bad hex, accusing him of things, calling him a hypocrite. Well, he is one, actually. You know he did the same thing to me that he's trying to stop me from doing." 

"Maybe he knows now that how he treated you was a mistake," said Hermione, patting his arm. 

Harry batted her hand away. "Oh, that's likely. Sure. He'd only see it as a bad strategy considering _Podentes_ was in our future, and it only works well if we get along. He wouldn't think it was a mistake. Not a real one, I mean." 

"Well, in any case, I don't think he's a hypocrite," said Hermione, stepping back. 

" _What?_ " 

That was Harry and Ron both, the two of them outraged, exchanging a glance with one another. 

"No," said Hermione firmly. "It's like . . . ten people in a lifeboat, Harry. After a ship goes down. And the lifeboat is rated for eleven people. Somebody swims up and gets helped over the side, but then that same person refuses to let anybody else in. Swats them away, in fact. He's not a hypocrite for doing that. He has to do what's best at the time he makes each decision." 

"Yeah, well, the bloke in your story didn't do anything wrong climbing into the lifeboat in the first place. But Severus did, starting from my first ever day of potions class!" 

Hermione shrugged. "So it's a flawed analogy. The point is that Severus can see that what you're doing isn't going to be good for you. I don't know what you have against this child, but I do know that I don't want to see you turn into a bitter old man. And from what the pensieve showed me . . ." She winced. 

"Yeah," said Harry thickly. He'd seen that himself. It was kind of hard to miss, once you were in the pensieve, seeing yourself acting so . . . _evil_. "It's just, it rankles taking advice on this from Severus, of all people. I mean, I still do think he has a nerve, telling me it's wrong to pick on a student." 

"Maybe he knows he's allowed himself to become too embittered, and he doesn't want you to end up that way." 

"Yeah, maybe." 

"Have you ever wondered if he had somebody to talk to him the way he talked to you?" 

Harry blinked. No, he'd never wondered that. 

Hermione's voice as she continued was gentle. "I think we all know that Dumbledore never did much to help you fend off Snape, right? But that means he never did much to help Snape, either, Harry. Help him deal with his own anger. He didn't have anyone to pull him back from the abyss, when he saw you and remembered your father. But you . . ." 

"I do have someone," said Harry, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Severus." 

Hermione nodded. 

"I . . . oh, God. I said such terrible things to him." Harry hung his head, remembering. "I told him all he cared about was fucking _points_." He glanced up, then. "Though actually, I still do think he'd rather I hadn't taken so many from Slytherin." 

Ron grinned. "Of course he'd rather you hadn't, Harry. This _is_ Snape we're talking about. Or Severus, I mean. But tell me something honestly. If you'd been having this kind of trouble with a Ravenclaw, and Severus found out, do you really think he would have let it just go on?" 

"Uh . . ." Harry shook his head. "No. I . . . no, I guess not." 

"So, it's not just the points he cares about," said Hermione softly. 

Harry scoffed. "Well no, I guess it's not, but it's not the way you're making it sound, either. We get on pretty well these days, but we're just friends, you know?" 

"Just friends?" Ron actually waggled his eyebrows. "Come on, Harry. Believe me, even if you could tell us details, we wouldn't be asking for them. But we _know_ you aren't just friends." 

"Friends with benefits," Harry insisted, stubborn. "That's all." 

Ron and Hermione didn't say anything else about that, though they did exchange a look. Harry blew out his breath, frustrated. "Look, I've got over the whole idea I had about gay meaning, I don't know, weird or something, but that doesn't mean I think about Severus and get . . . _mushy!_ And _he_ certainly doesn't--" 

"That's fine, Harry," said Hermione, giving Ron a look that time that clearly meant he should keep out of this. "Let's talk about what to do, now. Do you have any ideas in mind?" 

Harry almost asked her how he could have an idea that _wasn't_ in his mind. But she was his friend and she was trying to help, so that would be out of line, to say the least. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly feeling so irritated. _Must be the prospect of going down there to apologise,_ he told himself. Yeah, that must be it. 

"I think I'll take it from here," he said. "It's been good seeing you both, and the pensieve turned out to be a pretty damned good suggestion, Hermione. But now . . . I guess I have to go work this out with Severus." 

He stood up to walk them to the headmaster's door. "Thanks for visiting, really." 

Ron blinked when Harry stayed behind. "Er . . . aren't you leaving Dumbledore's office, now?" 

"I've got a direct Floo connection down to the dungeons." 

"Oh." Ron gave him a bracing smile. "Well, good luck, then. But you won't need much of that. I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I bet that Snape-- er, Severus, doesn't rub it in, too much." 

"That's enough, Ron," said Hermione sternly, tugging on his hand to make him walk away with her. "'Bye, Harry." 

"'Bye, Harry," echoed Ron, just before saying to her in a more quiet voice, "But you didn't see him in hospital with Harry, holding his hand--" 

"'Bye," called Harry after them both. 

Huh. That was the second time Ron had said something like that, something about Severus watching over Harry when Harry'd been so weak and ill. 

As Harry went back to the pensieve to pull his memories out of it, he had half a mind to drop a new one in, and watch it. Early August, Harry in the hospital, Severus by his side . . . 

But no, Harry didn't really want to see himself in the throes of that awful illness, again. And so what if Severus had been concerned about him? Any decent man would have been. Besides, Severus had had more reason than that. Harry was the one who could set him free, finally, from Vol . . . from the Dark Lord. So of course he'd wanted Harry to recover. Of _course_ he'd cared. 

Turning his back on the pensieve, Harry headed over to the Floo. He wished he could put this conversation off, but if he did, and more people died, he knew he couldn't bear it. 

His first priority now had to be crossing their powers. Nothing else mattered, and if that meant that Harry had to eat a little crow and admit he'd been wrong, well . . . 

He _had_ been wrong. 

It was just admitting to it that was hard. Admitting it to Severus. 

But it had to be done. 

Sighing, Harry grit his teeth against the feel of the Floo whirling him down and down and down. 

  
  
  
  



	39. Chapter 39

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 30, 1998 ---- 2:32 p.m.**

Harry wasn't quite sure what he was going to say to Severus, or even how to start the conversation. But as it turned out, he needn't have worried. The moment he stumbled out of the Floo, slightly stained with soot as usual, Severus glanced up from the potions journal in his hands, a knowing look on his face. 

"Come to apologise, have you?" 

Harry all but gaped. "How did you--" 

"The look on your face. _Accio_ flannel." After it came sailing towards him, Severus moistened it with a little water from his glass. "We really must do something about this tendency of yours to attract ash." 

Harry quickly busied himself swabbing his face and neck, grateful for the time it gave him to figure out what came next. "Um, yeah," he said, banishing the towel before slipping off his robe. Hanging it by the door gave him another minute to think. 

But then, there was nothing to do but go back to where Severus was sitting, quietly watching Harry. 

"I do think I'd better apologise," he admitted, stiffly lowering himself into a chair opposite the other man. "That was crass of me to assume you were _only_ thinking about Slytherin's standing." 

"Yes, it was." 

And to think, Ron had said that Severus wouldn't rub it in. Then again, Severus was just telling the truth. And maybe that was what they needed more of, between them. Truth. 

"Though I do think there was part of you concerned about the points." 

"As I said myself," said Severus, raising his chin. 

Harry tried to stare him down. Surprisingly, it worked. 

"Well, after you insisted," admitted the other man, grudgingly. 

"But mostly you were trying to help me," said Harry slowly. "I get that, now. I shouldn't have made that nasty suggestion about deep-throating you, either. I mean, not like that. You haven't treated me . . ." Harry cleared his throat, then laughed nervously. "I should probably kiss your robes or something. I mean, you've never abused the power you have over me. I mean, when it comes to sex." 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Hopefully not in any other way, either." 

"You know you haven't." Harry glanced up, feeling almost wary all of a sudden. Maybe it was because of the things Ron had said. Harry didn't believe those things. In fact, the implication was ridiculous. Severus wasn't the mushy type, either. But still, some part of him had to ask. "Er . . . why is that?" 

"Why haven't I abused my power?" 

"Yeah." 

Instead of answering, Severus steepled his fingers together and regarded Harry over then. His black eyes looked about as serious as Harry had ever seen, and for one moment, Harry thought Severus was going to say something unexpected. Something unsettling, even. 

But that was just the power of suggestion, Harry realised a moment later. Ron's suggestion. 

"Why do you think?" 

Harry felt like a kettle that had suddenly released all its steam. He slumped, unaware until then that he'd been holding himself so tensely. "You're a decent man, for one thing. Even if you did make a terrible mistake when you were young, and then another--" he couldn't resist adding, "--when I came here and you were so cruel to me." 

Severus merely inclined his head. "Any other reason?" 

"Your sexual tastes aren't . . . uh, warped, I guess. You never did want a sex slave." 

"I would not class a desire to dominate, or submit, for that matter, as warped to begin with. However, you're right that I generally don't find myself drawn to such . . . games. I prefer a willing partner. Thoroughly willing, as you know." 

Yeah, Harry did know. In fact, just thinking about it made him feel a little bit tense again. But in a good way, this time. "So that's why you don't abuse your power," he finished. "Because you don't want to, anyway." 

Severus chuckled a little, shaking his head. 

"What?" 

"It astounds me how innocent you can still be, after all we've done." 

Harry didn't understand. "Come again?" 

"I have every reason in the world to treat you well. It's not a matter of altruism, or even personal preferences. It's also strategic." 

"Right, right, because wallowing in misery isn't the right frame of mind for crossing powers. Yeah, I knew that." 

Severus nodded, even as he added, "I also don't care to have a sulking teenager hanging about my quarters. It's best all around if you're kept as content as possible, in the circumstances." 

Harry's smile faded. "Well, how about you stop calling me a teenager, then? And while you're at it, don't talk about me like I'm a pet. _Keep me content_ . . . talk like that is guaranteed not to." 

"You are in fact a teenager." 

"Not the way you mean it." 

Severus' eyes glimmered. "In nine short months, the term won't apply at all, and you begrudge my using it already?" 

"Yes." 

A short pause, and then Severus smiled slightly. "Very well." 

"Keeping me content, are you?" 

"Something like that." 

Harry couldn't help but smile, too. "I am very sorry I didn't react better when you talked to me about Bole. I just . . . well, it seemed a bit much, coming from you." 

It was an opportunity for Severus to apologise for the past, Harry thought, but Severus didn't. Not that Harry was surprised. He hadn't expected that, not really. Hermione had been right, anyway. Severus hadn't had anyone to pull him away from temptation. He'd fallen into it, instead. 

And now that Harry knew how easy it was to do just that . . . well, he'd have liked an apology, even so. But he thought he was mature enough to live with the fact that he wasn't going to get one. 

Ever. 

It probably helped that he didn't have much choice _but_ to live with that fact. 

"Have you thought about how to proceed from here?" asked Severus in what sounded like a cautious voice. 

"Oh, with Bole?" Harry shuddered, the dungeon suddenly seeming colder to him. "No idea, really. I mean, I could go back to ignoring him completely. That was working all right, except for Bryerson calling me on it." 

"David Bryerson knew from the start that you were having trouble working with Bole?" 

Harry looked away from Severus. "Er, no. I didn't want it to be obvious what the problem was, so I just kind of . . ." He cleared his throat. "Ignored all the Slytherins in that class." 

"Very professional." 

"You're a fine one to talk," said Harry, though not angrily that time. "When's the last time you _didn't_ pick on the Gryffindors in your class, eh? At least I was just ignoring the Slytherins, not tormenting them." 

"Until David Bryerson left." 

"Yeah." 

When Harry glanced his way, Severus was studying his nails. "What?" 

Severus abruptly folded his hands together. "Albus firecalled me to say that David Bryerson would be returning on Monday. He asked me to pass the message on to you." 

"Well, that solves that, then." 

"You think so?" 

"Yes, I think so," retorted Harry. "Look, it may not put me in the best light, but the truth is that as long as Bryerson was around to see what I was doing, it didn't occur to me to cross any lines with Bole. It was only when Bryerson left that I started losing my temper." 

Severus narrowed his eyes. "You never struck me as the type to need a crutch, Harry." 

Crap. Severus was probably right. "Well, what am I supposed to do, then?" 

"Treat Charles Bole as you would any other student." 

"And you still don't see that it's a bit asinine for _you_ to say a thing like that?" 

"I see it," said Severus shortly, suddenly unbuttoning his cuff and pulling up his sleeve until the Dark Mark was on display. God knew Harry had seen it before, plenty of times, but he tried not to look, if that made sense. He didn't like to think about Severus becoming a Death Eater. "Does this mean I have no right to tell others not to follow where the Dark Lord leads, Harry?" 

"No, of course not--" 

"But I can't advise you to deal with the challenge of Charles Bole better than _I_ dealt with _my_ enemy's son thrust in my face day after day!" 

"No, you can," said Harry, sighing. Huh. Part of him did want an apology, he supposed. No other reason why he'd have egged Severus on like that. Well, at least the man had admitted that he hadn't dealt with the situation very well, back when Harry was a student. It would have to do. "Yeah, all right. Fine." 

Severus was still glowering, which obviously wasn't good, so Harry tried to lighten the situation. "At least I can be sure that Bole won't need to come to me for Occlumency lessons. That's something." 

"Imagine that he was assigned to. Imagine that Albus insisted, over your strident objections. Imagine how you would feel _then--_ " 

"It was hard on you, too, yes!" shouted Harry. "I get it, all right?" 

All at once, the man's voice went silky. "Interesting choice of words. Being near you then wasn't _hard_ on me, not the way it is now." 

"Are we moving on, then?" asked Harry, biting his lip. "I mean, I wouldn't mind taking this to the bedroom, but only if we're not going to come back to this, afterwards." 

"Have you something more to say?" 

Harry shrugged. "Just . . . I don't know. Maybe I can tell Bryerson I need to work with fifth-year instead of Bole's class?" 

"Running away from your problems? That's not like you, either." 

"I've never had a problem like this one, before." 

Severus leaned forward and caught Harry's hands in his. "Well, the good news is that even the most odious of students are gone from here within seven years." 

At that, Harry cracked a smile. "Really? Seems to me that one of your least favourite students is going to be here a good deal longer than that. A lifetime, actually." 

"Yes, a heavy burden indeed," drawled Severus. "Perhaps if I distract myself with enough sex, I won't notice the imposition." 

Harry laughed. "I'm no imposition, and you know it." 

"You're also not my least favourite student." 

"That's only because I'm not a student at all. You know perfectly well that if you tried to teach me to brew something we'd be at each other's throats again." 

"Oh, I think perhaps in time you could make a competent brewer." 

"You're joking!" 

"No, I'm perfectly serious. You have enough intelligence and dedication to learn the proper techniques. What you've always lacked is the inclination." 

"Three guesses why, Severus." Harry sighed, a little. "You aren't hinting at something, are you?" 

"No, I'm not. You have your OWL in the discipline, which is all most wizards will ever need. And should you need a more complex potion at some point, I'm certain you'll know how to procure it." 

"Yeah, buy it from Fred and George," said Harry with a straight face. 

"If you do, you deserve what you get." 

"Ron says you're interfering in their business." Harry paused. "For their own good?" 

Severus' mouth twitched. "For mine, of course. In the normal course of events I'd never have become involved in any business venture headed by those two blockheads." 

"Maybe you should sell your share in the business, then." 

"Perhaps," said Severus. "But at the moment I find it rather entertaining to insist they do things my way." 

Harry couldn't help but snicker at that. It was bad of him, probably. He should maybe do as Ron had asked, and see if he could convince Severus to go a bit easier on the twins. Skiving Snackboxes weren't _that_ evil, after all. 

On the other hand, they also weren't worth fighting about. And Harry had a feeling he wouldn't be able to convince Severus of much, not when it came to the twins. 

"Let's go to bed," he said, rising to his feet. Severus' hand was still in his, so Harry pulled on it a little. 

"At three in the afternoon?" 

"I didn't say _sleep_. We had our fight. The way I hear it, now it's time to make up." 

Harry didn't have to ask twice. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, October 30, 1998 ---- 6:45 p.m.**

"Mmm, that was good," said Harry hours later as he lay naked on top of the covers, stretching. "I guess it's true what they say about make-up sex." 

Severus hid his smile. He knew what people said, of course. And now he knew that it was true. That was something he'd learned today, however. Never before had he had any one lover long enough to find out just how good make-up sex could be. 

Somehow, it seemed right that he should be learning that with Harry alone. 

"I'm starving," Harry suddenly announced. "How about we go into Hogsmeade for dinner?" 

"Weren't you there for lunch? With your friends?" 

Harry gave him a sidelong glance as he moved to sit cross-legged on the rumpled bed. "No. What would make you think that?" 

"You weren't in the Great Hall." 

"You went looking for me?" 

Severus had, actually. When Harry hadn't come down for lunch, Severus had surreptitiously checked in the upstairs rooms, and then the Great Hall. To explain all that, though, would give too much away. "It's customary for staff to eat with the students after each Quidditch match. Surely you recall as much." 

Harry laughed. "I guess I never noticed. Anyway, Ron and Hermione and I skipped lunch to have a chat. Well, so they could talk some sense into me, more like. I was pretty upset." 

"No wonder you're starving." 

"Oh. Er . . . well, I did have a little something later on. In Dumbledore's office." 

Severus suddenly found himself bunching up the blankets and dragging them across his own bent legs. "You went to Albus to complain about me?" 

"I never did that even when I was a student and you were being the world's biggest git," Harry said, his smile sliding towards sarcasm. "What makes you think I would start now?" 

Severus shrugged. "You're right. It's far more your habit to refuse to lean on anyone else, even when the situation warrants it. And so?" 

"Hermione suggested I use the pensieve." 

"Ah." 

"But enough of that," said Harry, his green eyes gleaming in a way that said he was consciously forcing it from his mind. "What about Hogsmeade?" 

Severus had been pleased before by the invitation, though he'd been careful not to show it. Harry's insistence was even more heartening. He truly wanted to go out with Severus. And what was more, go out here where they could be seen together. 

Of course, they would be going as colleagues, not lovers. But that was all right. Harry had a right to a private life, after all. And Severus never had wanted his own affairs making their way into the scandal rags. 

"Tonight would be best for Hogsmeade," he said, nodding. "Since tomorrow is Halloween." 

"Yeah. Crap," said Harry, surprising Severus. "I guess you mean that we have to join in the festivities in the Great Hall?" 

"It's expected, though I doubt Albus would say anything about it if we didn't attend " 

"No." Harry sighed. "It's part of the job. I understand that. And I'll remember about lunch with the students after the next match, too. So yeah, let's go out tonight. Three Broomsticks, you think?" 

"I know some better restaurants, if you'll permit me," said Severus. "Not the quality of cuisine we got in Paris or Venice, of course, but--" 

"But those won't do," said Harry. "I want people to start figuring out we're friends. I don't mind them knowing that, now. And anyway, it'll make things easier, later." 

"Later?" 

"After _he's_ dead." Harry sighed again, standing up to pad over to the bathroom door. "You heard what the Sorting Hat said. It'll all come out, about me being your slave. And when it does, if people think I still hate you, things are bound to be more difficult. For you, I'm thinking. Though I don't want anybody's pity, either. I hate that." 

Severus turned to regard Harry. "So, this is strategy, is it?" 

Harry nodded. "Did you think that only Slytherins had heard of that, Severus? Though come to think of it, the Hat did want to put me in Slytherin. Don't think I ever mentioned that to you." 

Severus chuckled as he stood up. "Not terribly significant. If the Hat had wanted you in my house, it would have placed you there." 

"Well, I talked my way out of it." 

"I doubt that." 

"I did!" 

"I'm sure it seemed so to you," said Severus in his smoothest voice. It seemed to work; Harry visibly calmed. "But you wouldn't have been placed in Gryffindor unless you were more suited to go there." 

"Or unless the Hat knew something. About what was coming, about . . . you know, all this." Harry gave a vague wave. "I mean, if I'd been in your house you might have--" 

"What?" Severus could hardly believe his ears. "Come to think of you as a _son_ , is that what you were going to say?" 

"No, I was going to say that you might have killed me." 

Oh. Well, that was better, then. For a moment, Severus had been afraid that his sentimental side had been showing too clearly. Not that he really _had_ a sentimental side, but when it came to Harry, he wasn't entirely unmoved, either. 

Oh, what was the use? Severus could pretend all he liked, to himself and Harry both, and the facts would still remain. He was besotted with Harry. 

With a teenager. 

"Let's have a shower and then be off to Hogsmeade," said Harry, dropping the subject of the Sorting Hat. Just as well. Severus really didn't want to contemplate what seven years in Slytherin would have done to Harry. Why would he? He liked Harry the way he was. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, November 1, 1998 ---- 7:15 a.m.**

"Time to get up," said Severus, shaking Harry's shoulder. 

"Tired," mumbled Harry, rolling over and thrusting his face into a pillow. The one Severus had been using. 

Severus was disturbed to find that he liked that image even before Harry breathed in deeply and sighed in obvious pleasure. 

"What happened to your insistence that you have to obey me?" 

Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes, then flashed Severus a grin that could only be termed cocky. "I think that's what got me so knackered in the first place, eh? You really know how to put a man through his paces." 

"Yes, I can see how worn out you are," drawled Severus, glancing pointedly at Harry's hardening cock. 

"Can't help it. You're hot," said Harry in a matter-of-fact voice. "And what you do to me is hot. And makes me feel like _I'm_ hot. I bet our powers have crossed even more. How can they not have, after that second blowjob last night, not to mention the--" 

"Up," ordered Severus. "My students are brewing some rather explosive potions this morning. I have to arrive there clear-headed, not overly relaxed because of the afterglow." 

Harry grinned. "I like afterglow. So, when are we going to test our powers again?" 

"In a few days." 

Harry rubbed his hands together. "All right. Sure you don't want me come down to your office again? I mean, this time I won't be sarcastic when I offer you a nice, long, wet--" 

"Perhaps you could get _up_." 

"Oh, I'll get it up, don't you worry--" 

"Harry--" 

"Yeah, all right. Fine." Harry bounded out of bed, his exhaustion apparently forgotten. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, November 2, 1998 ---- 2:27 p.m.**

"And this section, Potter?" 

Harry briefly went over what the class had covered. 

Bryerson nodded. "That all seems in order, then. Did you mark their tests?" 

"Yes. Top right drawer." 

"Good." Bryerson smiled, the expression tired. "I don't know how I would have managed without you, Potter. You did very well, taking over my classes on such short notice." 

Harry hadn't done very well, of course. Not with Bole. But he wasn't going to mention that unless Bryerson brought it up. "I'm sure they'll be glad to have a proper professor back," he said. "Er . . . sorry, I meant to ask before, but we've been so swamped . . . your fiancée's improving, then?" 

"Yes. Close call, that. She's discontinuing her apprenticeship until after she delivers. Just plain bad luck that her pregnancy reacted badly to certain wand cores. Normally, pregnant witches have no trouble training to be wandmakers." 

That was more information than Harry knew what to do with. "Er . . . so when is she due?" 

"Mid-July." Bryerson stretched. "Well, here they come, Potter. Sure you wouldn't like to take a few days off to make up for having had to fill in for me?" 

Harry was tempted. Very tempted, considering this was Bole's class. But that would be running away, Harry thought, frowning as he remembered Severus' words on that subject. 

Besides, Bole had to be faced sooner or later. It might as well be today. 

"Can I take a rain check on the time off?" 

"Of course." 

All in all, class went well, though Harry couldn't help but notice that some of the students were definitely wary of him. Not Bole, though. He looked up at Harry when Bryerson's back was turned, and sneered. When Harry did nothing about it, Bole must have figured that his Head of House had had words with Harry, and Harry had caved. As far as Bole was concerned, he had free rein to do as he pleased. 

Well, within the limits of what Bryerson would tolerate, of course. 

For his part, Harry was determined to handle things well, this time around. No more pretending Bole didn't exist, but no more picking on him, either. The second part of that was difficult; Bryerson's presence didn't do a thing to alleviate Harry's anger. But at least now, the thinking part of Harry's mind knew that the anger was misplaced. 

Charles Bole might be annoying--hell, _was_ damned annoying--but he hadn't done anything to justify the murderous rage Harry felt every time he looked his way. 

Harry kept telling himself that as he circled the classroom, helping students with their duelling stances. He was careful to help the Slytherins as much as the Gryffindors, even though when it came to duelling, the Slytherins actually needed less help. It seemed obvious that a number of them had already participated in practice duels at home. 

Including Charles Bole. 

Still, Harry pressed on, drawing close to the boy to examine the angle of his feet and hips as he stood with wand drawn. "A little more extension of the wrist," Harry said in a level voice. 

Bole adjusted his stance, but just as Harry was veering away, whispered something under his breath. 

Harry whipped around again. _Treat Bole as you would any other student._ Well, Harry wouldn't put up with any other student calling him an arsehole, would he? "Five points from Slytherin for language," he calmly replied to the insult. 

Bole's eyes went wide as he sputtered, "But you can't! I'll tell Snape, I will--" 

"Go ahead." 

Bole started sulking, then. 

"Problem?" 

Huh. Harry hadn't known that Bryerson was so near. Well, nothing like taking the wand by the grip. "No, Professor. I have it under control." 

Bryerson looked as though he respected that, but he'd heard more than he'd let on. "Professor Snape doesn't run this class, Bole," he said in a stern voice. "Potter and I do. So you'll answer to us, not your Head of House, if we hear any more vulgarities. Is that clear?" 

"Yes, sir," muttered Bole. He threw Harry a hateful look as he said it, but he didn't say anything else disrespectful. Not then, and not during the rest of the lesson. 

Harry felt like that was five points well taken, and he had a feeling that Severus would agree. 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, November 3, 1998 ---- 9:27 p.m.**

"Victory's gone to their heads," said Harry dryly as Severus sat behind him, rubbing his shoulders. Oh, that did feel good, and not just because Severus was using a deep-heating salve. The man knew how to use his hands. And the thought that he only used them on Harry, now . . . that shouldn't matter, he thought. But it did. "They ran me ragged tonight out on the pitch. I may have created a monster." 

"The Hufflepuff team?" Severus chuckled. 

Their conversation was cut short by a spark of flame in the Floo. A moment later, Albus' face appeared in the hearth. He didn't bat an eyelid to see Harry sitting there shirtless, with Severus' hands on him. "May I come through? There's been another attack." 

"Yes, of course," murmured Severus, handing Harry's shirt to him. 

Harry wasted no time doing up his buttons. 

"Cornwall, this time," said Albus, starting to pace. "The home of a half-blood who'd married a Muggle. I thought I'd come tell you myself, before you read the speculation in the papers." 

Harry swallowed. "Speculation?" 

Albus met his eyes squarely, the blue in his own looking faded. Looking . . . old. "About you, my boy. About how you must have been spared, all those years ago, for a reason." 

Harry went stiff with shock. "They don't even know about the latest prophecy, and they _still_ expect me to be the one to save them?" 

"Events do seem to revolve around you," murmured the headmaster. "May I?" He sat down before he got any reply. "Now, Harry, it's not my wish to pressure you. Please do believe me about that. But I do hope you can tell me if you've made any more progress toward crossing your powers with those of Severus?" 

"Not really." Harry swallowed again. "I've been working on it, though. Really hard. I mean, I've been doing everything I can. Really, I have." 

"Oh, I don't doubt you in the slightest," said Albus, nodding as he sat there, his floppy hat looking more ludicrous then usual. "I have the utmost faith in you, my boy. In both of you, I should say. I wouldn't have mentioned this attack at all if not for the fact that you were bound to read about it in the press, as I said." 

"We appreciate your consideration, Headmaster," said Severus in a heavy tone. "And now, if you don't mind, I think Harry and I would like to discuss this, alone." 

"Oh, of course, of course." Albus made his way back to the Floo. 

"Maybe our powers have crossed more than we realise," Harry said as soon as he was gone. "We haven't tested that in a few days." 

"Be my guest." Harry noticed that Severus sat down as soon as he'd said it. Preparing himself for the surge of weakness that struck whenever Harry cast a spell drawing on Severus' magic as well as his own. 

"Sure we shouldn't go up to the Room of Requirement for this?" 

Severus' eyes looked dark and thoughtful as he shook his head. 

Harry thought it was a little strange, but he was tired enough not to wonder about it much. Or care, really. He'd just as soon not floo up, let alone go there on foot. 

As it turned out, there was no need to, in any case. Their powers were definitely crossing . . . but no more so than before. His levitation charm was strong enough to lift the chair with Severus still in it, but he couldn't hold it up for very long. That was progress, he supposed. A year ago he'd have had trouble levitating anything heavier than a pile of books. But it wasn't as much power as he was going to need. 

In fact, it was nowhere near enough. Harry dropped into a chair, slouching. "Damn." 

Severus sounded more-or-less philosophical about the matter. "It will take more time." 

"We haven't got any!" 

"Yes, we have." 

"How many died tonight, Severus? And how many more before I manage to get this right?" 

"I told you from the first that maturing the spell would be a process." Severus steepled his fingers and seemed to lean on them, slightly. "It simply can't be rushed, Harry. And the fact that the Dark Lord is moving forward with his own strategy . . . that is not your responsibility. Nor your fault." 

Harry realised he was grinding his teeth together. "Well, we just have to do more, then. That's all there is to it." 

"More?" 

For a moment, Harry could have sworn that Severus sounded almost keen on something, which was strange, considering that Harry knew how he felt. 

"More obedience! I swear, it'd be worth not taking points no matter what Bole does, if it would mean our powers would cross more." 

"I approve of your taking points when he's truly out of line," said Severus evenly. "I would hope you know that." 

"Yeah, I know it," muttered Harry. "But about the obedience. I think we'd better go after that like never before. I'll be your devoted little slave-boy, right? That's _got_ to be worth something. Or what did we do all this for, anyway?" 

Severus didn't answer for a long moment. But then his voice came, heavy with some emotion Harry couldn't define. Or maybe he just didn't want to. All he knew was that he was awfully tired. He wanted this over. He wanted Voldemort defeated, once and for all, so that he could get on with his life. 

Not that he could really get on with it, of course. He'd still be Severus' slave. But at least he wouldn't feel like doom was lurking around every corner and it was up to him to stop it. 

Maybe that was how Severus was feeling, too. Maybe that was why his voice was so . . . burdened. So _heavy_. Odd, considering what he said. 

"Come over here then," Severus sighed, unfastening his trousers as he spoke. "And suck me down to the root." 

  
  
  
  



	40. Chapter 40

  
  
  
  
  


**Sunday, November 22, 1998 ---- 8:14 p.m.**

The past few weeks hadn't done much to further the crossing of their powers, Severus thought, his chin propped up on a hand as he watched Harry try yet another spell. By then, Severus was used to the sudden surge of weakness that rushed through him as his powers--part of them, at any rate--were siphoned off by the force of _Cambiare Podentes_. He'd decided it was best to be sitting down whenever Harry tested spells. 

That way, Harry didn't become nearly as alarmed at the effect those spells were having on Severus. 

Not that the effect was anything to be unduly concerned about. A weakness in the knees, a spot of dizziness, though on a couple of occasions Severus had thought he might faint from the sudden loss of magic. Quite a shock to the system, it was. At first, Severus had wondered how the wizards who had constructed _Podentes_ could have been so careless. What master wizard would want to put up with bouts of weakness like this? 

But then, of course, he'd realised the truth. The ancient wizards probably hadn't experienced anything like the sudden reeling feeling Severus was getting whenever Harry drew magic from him. _Podentes_ , after all, had been constructed with a very weak wizard in mind. A near-squib, in fact. And someone with limited magic like that probably couldn't have drawn very heavily on his master's power. Wizards with normal levels of power would never have considered entering an enslavement spell. 

And Harry could hardly be called a near-squib. He was innately strong. A _Patronus_ before he'd earned so much as a single OWL? 

Magically speaking, Harry Potter was a force to be reckoned with, so perhaps it only stood to reason that when their power crossed, Severus would feel the loss quite distinctly. 

Actually, that was a bit worrisome, given that their powers thus far had crossed only slightly. What would it be like when the bond between them had fully matured? 

Severus didn't know, but he knew better than to speculate in front of Harry. The last thing he needed was for Harry to do some idiotically Gryffindor noble thing, like hesitate in battle against the Dark Lord, just because attacking him properly might have a detrimental effect on Severus. 

It _might_ have some effect, to be sure, but what was certain was that if Harry lost in battle, the Dark Lord would be entirely free to wreak his vengeance against Severus. And there was no doubt what the effect of _that_ would be, was there? 

So this weakness--in fact, this inability to use his magic for the brief spans when Harry was casting--it was the lesser of two evils, definitely. 

"Nothing!" said Harry in a peevish voice as he flopped onto the bed that had suddenly appeared in the Room of Requirement. Interesting . . . Severus hadn't been feeling particularly inclined, and it didn't look as though Harry was, either. Perhaps the bed just meant that Harry wanted to lie down. 

"I wouldn't say that _Aguamenti_ blasting water with enough force to polish the stones is nothing." 

Harry cast him a baleful glance. "You think I'm going to win against _him_ by using waterspout spells? I don't care how strong they are, they're not enough. They're so far from enough that they _are_ nothing!" 

Harry had a point there, but Severus merely shrugged. "How often do I have to tell you that it will take more time? And don't say again that we haven't any." 

"Of course I won't," said Harry in a slightly snide voice. Or perhaps he was just tired of the routine they'd established. "I do every last thing you say, these days. I was sure that total obedience would get us there faster! Well, maybe we just need even more still. You _do_ have a kitchen, although we don't use it much. And believe it or not, I know a fair bit about cooking. Couldn't avoid learning _that_ , not where I grew up. So I'll start making breakfast from scratch every morning instead of relying on the table, and I can probably manage dinner too, though that'll be easier once the new term starts after Christmas and all the lessons are in the morning. Oh, crap. _That'll_ interfere with breakfast, and lunch is out of the question except on weekends--" 

Severus had been too tired to cut him off earlier. Actually, hearing how Harry's mind worked could sometimes be illuminating. Enough was enough, however. "I don't want you to cook my meals." 

"But you could tell me what you fancy, and that'd be more submission, see?" 

_I could tell him what I fancy,_ thought Severus, the words sardonic even in his own head. Yes, he could, but it would have nothing to do with the pleasures to be had from food. It would also most likely be counter-productive. What Severus _fancied_ , of course, was to bury himself inside Harry's fit young arse. He'd be tight, Severus knew that much. He'd be a delicious bottom. 

But he wouldn't be that now, clearly, and for Severus to mention it would only set them back. When Harry was ready to hear what Severus really wanted, he would ask, instead of hatching these asinine ideas about obedience and submission. They weren't working, because of course they weren't the point of _Cambiare Podentes_ , not at all. The spell was keying itself to Severus' level of satisfaction with Harry. And since what Severus wanted was sex--lots of willing, enthusiastic sex with his handsome young lover--that was what the bond was attuned to. 

Having Harry play at being a kitchen slave was completely useless. Actually, having him play at anything wasn't going to help, either. He had to want it. He had to participate. He had to _ask_ Severus to fuck that tight arse, with Severus' cock, plunging in and out. And what was more, he had to enjoy it. 

Because _that_ , and nothing less, was what Severus wanted from him. 

Severus hadn't understood in perfect detail how the spell would work, not in advance, but now it was clear to him. Their powers had first begun to cross when Harry had overcome his reluctance to have sex at all. Of course they had; Severus had been deeply pleased by that development. And then within the next few days after that, they had established a high level of sexual rapport. Blowjobs, handjobs, frottage . . . twice a day, three times a day, all the time. As much sex as Severus could possibly want, and Harry enjoying it every bit as much as Severus himself. Harry taking the initiative, coaxing Severus to arousal again just scant hours after a very satisfactory orgasm . . . 

With all that in place, their powers had crossed still further. 

Again, because Severus had been deeply, deeply pleased. 

But _now_ , there was nothing left to increase his delight and pleasure in Harry except one thing. The most difficult thing of all. 

Harry bottoming . . . Severus practically salivated at the thought of it, but he wasn't about to force the issue. Not physically, and not verbally, either. 

When Harry was ready to hear what Severus really wanted from him, when Harry _asked_ what it would take to cross their powers fully, then that would be the time to tell him. Because then, he would be ready to hear it. Or at least, as ready as he could be. 

But as long as he prattled on hiding behind delusions that obedience in _kitchen duties_ could make any difference to their situation, he clearly wasn't ready to hear the truth. 

"So how about tomorrow, eh?" Harry met his eyes. "Waffles, you think? Oh, wait. You probably don't have a waffle iron. I could go down to the kitchen to see how the elves manage." 

Severus wasn't about to tell Harry that what he wanted served up was Harry's arse, high in the air, but neither was he prepared to stand by while Harry turned himself into some species of elf. Considering Harry's abysmal childhood, that would breed the kind of resentment they didn't need between them. 

"I absolutely forbid you to cook for me," he said in a firm voice. 

"But--" 

"I thought you were resolved to obey me. No cooking." 

"All right, fine." Harry sighed, shifting to sit up on the bed. "Well, then . . ." 

For a moment, Severus' heart almost skipped a beat. He was sure, almost sure, that Harry was about to ask the question Severus had been waiting for. _What do you want, then?_

But Harry didn't ask that, because deep inside, he knew the answer already, and wasn't prepared to face it. 

"I guess you'd better come over here for a nice, long massage and blow, you think?" asked Harry. 

"Is that why the bed appeared, because you were intending to offer?" 

"Nah, just knackered." Harry yawned, covering his mouth only haphazardly. He did indeed look exhausted. 

"Does casting using both our powers drain you, too?" Severus came over to the bed and stood beside it, looking down at Harry. "That's new." 

"Not that." Harry rolled over. "Things have just been hectic lately, now that Quidditch competition is underway. The teams want longer practices, and ever since Hufflepuff won, they've all got this daft idea that I can give them the edge that'll make the difference." 

"That's hardly a daft idea." 

"Thanks," said Harry, smiling slightly. "But what I meant is that I feel like I'm getting pulled four ways. It's exhausting." 

"Tell them _no_." 

"I did." Reaching out, Harry caught one of Severus' hands and pulled him onto the bed. "Slytherin wanted me to coach them on Saturday mornings, and I told them to forget it." 

Severus chuckled slightly. "Oh, but if it's _Slytherin_ asking . . ." 

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Harry scowled. "The truth is, I wouldn't even mind doing an occasional Saturday session for one of the teams, but if I do it for one, they'll all demand the same consideration." 

"You were quite right to refuse, of course." 

Harry nodded, the motion looking determined, somehow. "So that leaves me with just enough extra energy to suck you off," he joked, his fingers going to the buttons on Severus' trousers. 

Severus could tell that his heart wasn't really in it. "Sometimes it's nice to simply hold your lover, you know," he said, brushing Harry's hands away. He urged Harry to his back, and lying down himself, settled Harry in against his side, facing him, Harry's head on Severus' shoulder. "You don't have to offer me sex all the time," he added. "When _you_ want me . . . that's when I want to hear as much." 

"Mmmm," said Harry, nudging Severus slightly, then cuddling up closer. "Yeah. All right." 

They lay there quietly for a few minutes, Severus watching with amusement as the room tried to arrange itself to suit them. The lights dimmed, and then a few candles appeared and lit themselves, putting out a gentle, soothing glow. From somewhere came the soft sound of a piano playing. 

"--going to do. You have any ideas?" 

Severus broke himself out of his thoughts, realising that Harry had been murmuring something to him. "Come again?" 

"Ha. Very funny . . . uh, I was saying that Slytherin's match is this next Saturday and I wanted to watch it with you but if you sit in Slytherin it'll look like I'm taking a side, I think. So I guess we can't sit together, unless you have any bright ideas?" 

The simplest solution would be for Harry to sit elsewhere, of course. But Severus was finding that he liked the idea of Harry choosing to be at his side for something other than meals. In the Great Hall, it merely looked as though he'd been assigned to sit there. But if Harry and he sat together for the match, that would look to one and all like Harry's free choice. 

Harry might not be ready to let the world know that they were lovers, but he was ready to admit that they were friends. That meant something, Severus thought. More than it should, most likely. He almost told Harry to go sit with Albus. 

But no, he _wanted_ Harry at his side. Wanted it enough, in fact, to suggest: 

"If you sit with me, the Slytherins will assume you want them to win, which is all to the good in terms of your working relationship with them. They don't want an even-handed coach, you understand." 

"What about the Gryffindors?" 

Severus smiled. "Oh, honestly, Harry. You ought to know how _they_ think by now. Just tell them that you were sitting with me in order to sound me out about a few of the players. Their personal weaknesses, that sort of thing. So the other teams will be better able to win against Slytherin. You'll be everybody's hero." 

"I'm sick of being that." 

"Yes, I know you are." 

"Wish the stupid _Prophet_ would shut up, already. I'm doing everything I can." 

"Yes, you are." 

"Not my fault he attacks somewhere new every week and people are getting hurt and killed," said Harry, a sentiment which would have been wonderful to hear if it hadn't been delivered in such a defensive tone. Clearly, Harry _did_ think it was his fault. On some level, at least. 

Severus frowned. He'd have to do something about that. Something more than just saying that Harry bore no responsibility. Words alone weren't going to be enough. Not with someone as stubborn as Harry about accepting guilt that wasn't his. Merlin's balls, the man even blamed himself for Cedric Diggory! 

"What about Saturday's Quidditch match, Harry?" The best Severus could manage at the moment was to provide a distraction. "Shall we sit together in the Slytherin section?" 

"Oh . . . good plan, I think. " Harry yawned and snuggled closer. 'Night, Severus." 

"You're more tired than I thought. Home and bed for you, I think." Severus tugged until Harry sat up. "Come on." 

Harry looked doubtfully at the Floo, and then at the door. "Um . . ." 

"Hang onto me as we floo down," suggested Severus. 

"Yeah . . . all right. Um, once we get home, are you sure you don't want something?" 

"Do you really want to offer?" 

Harry winced, just slightly. "Er, no. Too knackered. I mean, it's great and all, but just not today. Or again today, I mean." 

"And what did I tell you from the first? The first day you were truly mine?" 

Harry shrugged. "A lot of things." 

"That you can say _no_. In fact, I want you to, if you aren't in the mood. Crossing powers doesn't change that. If you think about it, our crossing powers really means that you doing what I want is all the more important." 

Severus let the hint hang in the air, but as he'd thought, Harry wasn't ready to hear what he was saying. 

"Great," he said, yawning again as he stepped over the wide hearth, his hand resting on Severus' arm. "Sleep it is, then." 

Severus managed not to sigh. Out loud, at least. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, December 5, 1998 ---- 9:01 a.m.**

Harry slammed the newspaper down and snatched up his cup of tea so furiously that he sloshed it all over the plain white tablecloth. 

"Bad news, I presume?" 

"When is there any other kind, these days?" 

"I know it's difficult, waiting for the spell to mature, but there's simply no other option." 

"Yeah, yeah." Thinking the tea was too bitter this morning, Harry spooned several heaps of sugar into it, then looked up almost in challenge. But Severus said nothing. Actually, he didn't often criticise Harry's table habits any longer. Maybe because, as they found out once or twice weekly these days, there were far more important matters to discuss. "Three, this time," Harry said in a low, dull voice. " _Prophet_ says one of them was a baby. Oh, God. Reminds me of my own story. Except, this baby didn't survive." 

His hands were suddenly clasped in a warm, firm grip. "You can't hold yourself accountable for that." 

"Well, if all it takes is _time_ for the fucking spell to get its act together, then we should have started one hell of a lot sooner! Started having sex, I mean, and then--" 

"No." 

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I know, I know, it might not have made a difference. If _Podentes_ needs five years for us to cross, then I wouldn't have been able to help these people, this baby, anyway. But what if one or two months _would_ have made a difference?" He gave a short laugh, so dry it hurt his throat. "I guess we'll know in a couple of months if I'm to blame. 'Cause it wasn't _you_ who was reluctant to get together, was it now?" 

Severus looked like he had something important to say. Something profound. His eyes were dark and steady, in that way he had, his lips a tight line, though his expression wasn't angry. When his words did come, Harry was almost disappointed, they were so ordinary. 

"You need . . . _we_ need, I believe, a change of scene. It's been a little while since we went to Cologne. Would you fancy a return trip there? Or shall we go somewhere else?" 

"Overnight?" asked Harry, frowning. With all the Death Eater activity lately, he wasn't sure he wanted to be out of the country for longer than a few hours. Though a change of scene did sound like a capital idea. 

"Just for the day, I think," said Severus, so smoothly that Harry couldn't tell if he'd originally intended an overnight and had changed his mind when he'd seen Harry's expression. 

"What about the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor match?" 

"Skip it," said Severus, letting go of Harry's hands. 

Harry gaped. "I can't skive off! It's my job!" 

"Actually, it's not." Severus sipped his own tea again and then put the cup down. "You aren't a head of house, expected to attend the relevant matches." 

"I'm the coach!" 

"Yes, and you've seen all four teams in competition already. You don't need to attend each and every match." 

"Albus--" 

"Knows perfectly well that you're owed some time off after you took over for Bryerson with no notice." 

"Well . . ." Harry bit his lip, just a little. "I kind of wanted to see Gryffindor smash Ravenclaw." 

Severus' nostrils flared. "You're not supposed to prefer one team over another." 

"Yeah, I know." Harry grinned. "And I don't, not really. Or, not so the students could tell. But I have a soft spot for Gryffindor. Can't help it. Maybe we can leave after the match?" His grin faded, then. "Or, if you really want a full day abroad, you can order me to go and I will. For the obedience thing." 

"The obedience thing," said Severus in a voice that Harry could only think of as dark. "I see your point. Harry, I demand you go abroad with me today . . . after the match has concluded." 

"Brilliant." Harry half stood-up and leaned over the table to drop a quick kiss on Severus' lips. "And thanks, Severus. So, where do you want to sit? Staff section this time, you think? It's not like you have to show support for your house, today." 

The other man's eyes glinted. "Sit? Why, I shall be standing up the entire time. In my potions laboratory, working on some refinements to Skele-Gro requested by Poppy Pomfrey. Possibly unworkable refinements, but I don't mind the challenge." 

Harry laughed. "No, _no_ , Severus. You have to come to the match! It was fun, last time. And I used that story you made up, so Gryffindor wouldn't get upset with me, but then afterwards I wished I'd just told them that we were friends. And if we sit together today, it'll look like we really are. Like I enjoyed your company last time, you know?" 

"Good points all, but alas, the Skele-Gro awaits--" 

Something in his tone--or maybe his flowery language--suggested amusement. Like Severus was enjoying the idea that Harry wanted his company. Like he wanted to be cajoled further. 

"How long has the Skele-Gro been _awaiting?_ " asked Harry, laughing. 

"Oh, these past few years. I told you the improvements might not be feasible. But it's a fine project to work on in my free time, and if I achieve a breakthrough, the reduced pain involved in re-growing bones should prove quite lucrative." 

"But you don't have as much free time as before." Harry got up from the table and moved around it, kneeling down at Severus' side so their faces weren't so far apart. It was either that or sit on his lap, which struck Harry as kind of childish. No matter that he'd done it before. "You're bound to someone, now. Right? We have to do things together on the weekend. It's part of . . . er, part of being in a relationship." 

"So now it's my _duty_ , is it?" 

No, that wasn't quite what Harry had meant. "I'm trying to say . . . I don't want it to just _look_ like I enjoy your company, Severus. I _do_ enjoy it. And I don't care who knows that. Really, I don't. I'd really like it if you'd join me for the match. Please?" 

Severus' whole face transformed, but only for a split second. In that tiny span of time, however, Harry could have sworn he saw glee written across the other man's features. Then Harry blinked, and the expression on Severus' face could be more properly described as simple pleasure. "Well then, I shall be delighted," he drawled. "But afterwards, _I_ will choose our destination for the balance of the day. Agreed?" 

"Sure. I'm easy." 

"You're far from easy." 

Harry didn't know what Severus meant by that, but he lost track of the question in what followed. 

"And I enjoy your company, too." 

Harry got off his knees and bent down to kiss Severus properly, that time. Really, things were going quite well between them. He was happier than he'd ever expected to be, and Severus was turning out to be worthy of the great trust Harry had placed in him. The invocation had been made of nothing _but_ trust, it sometimes seemed to Harry. 

If not for the hammer of doom hanging over his head--that need to get their power crossed, _now_ \--Harry would even have called himself content. 

Not ecstatic, no. Slavery would never have been his choice of lifestyle. But this, with Severus . . . he could live this way. He could bear it, even though it meant he'd never truly be free, or have the kinds of liberties other people took for granted. He could be . . . yes, content. That was the best word for it. 

But he wasn't content, because the death count was growing weekly, and he was supposed to put a stop to it, and the wizarding world was almost holding its breath, it seemed to him, waiting for him to do just that. 

He wanted to rush out and _do_ something. Take some action. Blast that snake-hearted shite of a dark lord into hell, and slam the doors shut after him. Staying at Hogwarts and doing nothing was wearing on his nerves. It wasn't like him. He was a Gryffindor! He wanted to rush in and . . . 

And what? Get himself killed because he wasn't ready? 

He _wasn't_ ready; Harry knew that. Not his fault if the fucking papers didn't know it, and were increasingly critical of him. 

Harry lifted his head to see Severus staring at him quizzically. He wondered how long the other man's eyes had been open. 

"That was an odd kiss." 

"Yeah." Harry cleared his throat. "Got distracted half-way through. Um, change of pace is probably a really good idea. Just, you know, be sure to boss me about quite a bit. This is so important, I don't even care if the Muggles stare, if they think we have some kind of weird relationship." 

"I'll do my best," said Severus in a solemn voice. Something about his tone was off, but Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it. "All right. I'm going to go read for a bit, take my mind off things, unless you need me to do something?" 

That last bit he tacked on almost hopefully, because the more he could submit to Severus, the better. But it was damned hard, he was finding, to submit to someone who had so little interest in issuing commands. 

"Go and read," said Severus. "One of my erotic novels, perhaps." 

"You don't think I'm already hot and bothered enough?" 

"Perhaps it will give you an idea." 

Harry smiled. "I don't need ideas. I know _just_ what you like." 

Severus made a non-committal noise before he turned away. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, December 7, 1998 ---- 7:01 a.m.**

Saturday's trip to Florence had been pretty good, Harry had to admit, though he'd had more fun yesterday, when they'd spent the entire day in Athens. He'd woken up that morning in a really good mood. 

Of course, it took the _Daily Prophet_ just thirty seconds to demolish it. 

"This is such utter crap," groaned Harry, shoving the paper away from him with both hands. "Where do they even come up with these names they're calling me?" 

"Quick Quotes Quill, most likely." 

Harry shot Severus an irritated look. "You think? Well, it's worse than usual. I am not the 'Chosen One!'" 

"A certain prophecy would say otherwise." 

"The paper doesn't know that!" 

"True." 

Somehow, Severus' calm, even tone only made Harry all the more annoyed. "Look, this is bad! The more they promise the public that I'm the answer to their prayers, the more I become a target for the Death Eaters!" 

"Few wizards pray." 

"Figure of fucking speech! What's wrong with you?" 

Severus took a single glance at the paper Harry had discarded, and shrugged. "There's no point in letting them get to you." 

"Get to me!" 

"They'll print what they wish--" 

"I've half a mind to go down to their offices and--" 

"You've no _more_ than half a mind if you think that will improve matters," said Severus in a scathing tone. "It can only worsen the situation." 

Harry knew that was true. Of course he did. He wasn't the same naïve fourth-year who hadn't understood at first what Rita Skeeter's game was. He was just so tired of standing by and watching Vol-- the _Dark Lord_ , and his henchmen, range far and wide across Great Britain, leaving murder in their wake. He needed to _do_ something. Anything. 

And speaking of doing something, he could just kick himself that he kept thinking _Voldemort_ instead of the _Dark Lord_ , like Severus wanted. God, what was wrong with him? The key to everything was submission, and he couldn't do the simplest thing Severus had ever asked for! People were dying, and he couldn't manage to obey practically the first thing Severus had ever asked of him! 

"Well, I have to do something!" he erupted, furious. "It's so easy for you to sit there, cool as you please, and weigh one death against another! But I can't do that. I'm not like you!" 

Severus' lips had thinned. "If you think that this is easy for me, you don't know me very well, after all." 

"Of course it's easy! You're a Slytherin! You don't have to count the cost as long as you get your way in the end. Because _you're_ not the one getting killed, and that's all that matters to you, isn't it?" 

"This has gone on quite long enough!" said Severus, raising his voice. "Stay right here." 

Harry raised an eyebrow, but before he could retort, Severus was striding from the reading room. A moment later, Harry heard the _whoosh_ of the Floo flaring to life, and Severus' voice, muffled. 

Firecalling someone, Harry figured. 

Probably not the _Prophet_. 

A moment later, Severus had returned, his arms crossed as he stood in the doorway. "Go and get dressed. We're going to France." 

"France!" Harry's chair fell over sideways as he shot to his feet. "I have to work, today!" 

"No, you don't. Albus has been informed that we will both be away from Hogwarts, today." 

"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Harry. "You might have asked me if I felt like skiving off work!" 

"Your real _work_ is doing as I wish, and you know it." 

"Yeah, remind me that I only have a job because it's all right with _you._ Now I feel better!" 

Severus replied in a heavy voice. "Like it or not, you _are_ a slave, Harry. My slave. I thought you had come to terms with that." 

His tone gave Harry pause. "I . . . I have. You know I have. But you don't usually get so . . . so . . . look, what's this about France, anyway? I know I said I wanted to travel, but don't you think that two countries a week is enough?" 

"This isn't a pleasure trip." 

"Then why _go?_ Why make me miss work?" 

Severus abruptly sighed. "Because I have things to say to you, and they can't wait." 

"So say them!" 

"I don't want to have this conversation here. Harry . . . go and get dressed, as I've asked." 

Harry would much rather have argued further. Going abroad just so they could have a conversation was stupid. And missing work for it was stupid. 

But it didn't matter what he thought. Not about anything. He was the slave, as Severus had said. And however angry he was at the moment, he _had_ come to terms with it. 

He didn't say another word as he walked past Severus and went upstairs to get ready to go. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, December 7, 1998 ---- 7:37 a.m.**

"Oh," said Harry as soon as he'd got up off his arse. This wasn't what he'd expected. When Severus had told him to announce _Number Seventeen_ to the Floo Network, he'd thought it referred to a hearth somewhere in Paris. Instead, he found himself in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere. Or at least, the windows showed no sign of any other buildings nearby. Actually, he had no way to know if he was even in France, or not. 

Severus stepped out of the Floo a moment later. Before the man could say a word, Harry cast a cleaning charm over himself. There, that was better. 

"Take off your robes and make yourself comfortable." 

"Going to be here a while, are we?" 

"As long as it takes." 

"As long as _what_ takes? What's so important? What do we have to discuss, anyway?" 

Severus took off his own robes and sat down on in a wingback leather chair before he answered. "Your eagerness to assume guilt for the Death Eaters' crimes." 

"Eagerness!" 

"You prefer the word obsessive?" 

"Just because I have a conscience--" 

"Take off your robes and sit down!" barked Severus. 

That time, Harry did. 

"This is more than a matter of conscience," continued Severus in a calmer tone, though his dark eyes were still flashing. "What is more, it is getting dangerous." 

"Oh, it is not--" 

"You think I don't _know_ how much self-control it's taken for you not to put on that invisibility cloak and rush out into danger?" 

"Yeah, well I haven't _done_ it, have I? I have enough self-restraint not to--" 

"You're a Gryffindor." 

"You think I'm still fifteen or something!" 

"No, I don't," said Severus, his voice so deep and sincere that Harry heard the sentiment even through his own anger. "You're an impressive man in many ways, Harry. I know that, and I appreciate it. But you do have limits. Everyone does. I think that you are fast approaching yours." 

Harry gulped a little, unsure whether it was the unexpected praise getting to him, or the fact that Severus' comments at the end were so spot-on. He _had_ been thinking about his invisibility cloak more and more often as the reports in the paper grew worse, as the details of the attacks became more gruesome. He'd even gone and sat in front of the trunk, one afternoon when he'd been alone in the dungeons. He'd reached out, wanting to open it and pull his cloak out. 

Only the knowledge that the wards would alert Severus had stopped him. 

"I . . . can't you see that I have to do _something_?" 

"The task is yours, certainly." Severus' lips firmed. "But what you have to do is continue on your course. With me. The prophecy speaks to the issue. You are going to _need_ my powers, Harry. And there's only one way to get them." 

"But--" 

"I know how guilty you feel every time the Dark Lord moves yet again." 

"Oh, how could you possibly know?" Harry shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, and slouched down in the chair, scowling. "You don't feel guilty, do you?" 

"No." Severus shook his head, his dark hair swaying. "Not for what the papers report. It wasn't my doing." 

"Well, it _was_ my doing, indirectly." Harry sighed, slouching down even further, until his back started to ache. "Like a lie by omission." 

"These things are not your doing, not in any way. Though the look on your face certainly tells me, morning after morning, that you think they are." 

"Well, if I could have stopped them--" 

"But you could not have stopped them. That is the point." 

"I _could_ have! You know how long I dithered about starting to really have sex with you, again!" 

"Yes, I know. I'd hardly call what you were doing _dithering_ , however. You needed to heal, and until you had, you could not possibly have enjoyed a sexual relationship." 

"I should have healed quicker! I should have got my act together, and--" Harry blew out a breath. "I knew what was at stake, and I just put things off and off." 

"Healing isn't a process that can generally be rushed." 

"Ha." Harry sat up a little bit, and yanking one hand out of a pocket, reached into the pocket of his robe, which he'd hung over his chair. "Cut me open and I bleed, right? But all it takes is a spell to set it right. A fucking spell!" 

"There aren't any spells to heal this sort of hurt." 

Harry knew that, but he still felt deficient, somehow. "I could have tried harder." 

"It's very clear to me that you think these things. I didn't bring you here to listen to you reiterate them." 

"Then what are we doing here?" 

"This," said Severus, standing up and going to where he'd hung his own robes, on a peg by the door. He fetched a rolled parchment scroll from an inside pocket, and tossed it over to Harry. 

Harry turned it over in his hands. "What?" 

"Read it." 

Shrugging, Harry untied the bit of string holding it rolled up, and flattened out the parchment on his lap. It was nothing but a list of names and ages. 

_Judith Greene née Larkson, age 28  
Henry Bartholomew Greene, age 27_   
_Lisa Anne Edwards, age 6  
Jeremy George Edwards, age 14  
Edward James Edwards, age 45  
Julianne Edwards née Neale, age 42  
Susan Altamar, age 16, pregnant  
_

And on and on. Dozens of names. Harry looked up in confusion. "So?" 

"It's a list of the Dark Lord's victims last time. Starting when you were born." 

Harry quickly turned it over. More names covered the back of the scroll, going halfway down. But his parents weren't there. 

"I stopped in mid-October." 

"Oh." Harry rolled the scroll up again. "I still don't understand. What's your point? You want me to know that he killed more people last time?" 

"He may well kill more this time, before he's through. No, that's not the point." 

"Then what is?" 

Severus sat back down and crossed one leg over another. "Strange. You've just seen the names of those he killed, yet you don't have that look on your face, not now. The guilty one." 

"Why should I?" 

"I thought it was your job to vanquish him. Isn't it prophesied? Aren't you, in truth, the _Chosen One_ , whether or not you asked to be? Didn't you let these people down?" 

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Harry, but he still didn't really understand what Severus thought his point was. "I can't help it if these people were killed years and years ago!" 

"Why not?" 

"Because I was a _baby,_ maybe?" 

"Why should that matter? The Dark Lord needed vanquishing, no matter that you were merely a babe in arms. The work was yours, and you didn't do it!" 

"I couldn't have done it!" 

"Why not?" 

"Because it was impossible! I was a baby!" 

"Impossible," scoffed Severus, his nostrils flaring. "Really, Harry. Aren't you grasping after excuses? You could have done something. You could have tried harder!" 

Harry flicked his wand. " _Accio_ dictionary! Oh, too bad. There isn't one. Well, when we get home maybe you can look up 'impossible,' since you seem not to understand the word." 

"Maybe _you_ can look it up." 

" _I_ happen to know what it means," said Harry, crossing his arms, his wand still dangling from one hand. After a moment he uncrossed his arms and set it down on the low table to one side of his chair. 

"Yes. Of course you do," murmured Severus, eyes narrowed, his features about as intent as Harry had ever seen. "The question is why you apply the definition to one situation and not the other. You could not possibly have done anything about the Dark Lord's crimes when you were so young, yes. But Harry, you _could not possibly_ have done anything to prevent these latest killings, either. You literally could not have." 

"I-- I--" Harry gasped, looking away from Severus' piercing regard. "Of course I could have. All it needed was sex to start our powers crossing. And it wasn't even that hard, once I decided to just _do_ it--" 

"Because you had allowed yourself to heal." 

"Well, I could have _tried!_ " 

"True, you could have tried." Severus leaned forward and caught Harry's hands in his. Harry yanked a little, not wanting that just then, but Severus tightened his grip. "But you _could not possibly_ have been an enthusiastic, passionate partner. You could have forced yourself to go through the motions. In fact, you did force yourself to do just that, when it was required. You are not a man who lacks either courage or determination, Harry. But that doesn't render you a man without limits, as I said before." 

"That once was terrible. And I didn't want . . . anything. Not even a blowjob, not then. But if I'd forced myself, I might have got used to it, right?" 

"Be honest with yourself," said Severus gently. "Perhaps you could have got used to giving and receiving sex. But could you have enjoyed it, any of it?" 

Harry didn't speak for a long while. He couldn't. The word stuck in his throat felt like it was choking him. It felt like failure. "No," he finally said in a very low voice. "But you might have. Some." 

"I might have come to a climax, the same as I climaxed inside you before your birthday. Did you think I enjoyed that, except in the most obvious sense?" 

Harry shook his head. 

"Suppose you _had_ forced yourself to take me in your mouth when you clearly didn't want to. Suppose you had climbed atop me for frottage, every morning and night, and ground our cocks together until the friction made me come, while you looked away so I couldn't see how little _you_ were getting from it. Would that have made our powers cross any faster? Would it? You know what sort of man I am." 

Again, the word was hard to force out. Strange to be afraid of a mere word. "No," Harry finally croaked. 

"It couldn't have made our powers cross in the least," said Severus, very calmly. "It would only have done one thing, Harry. It would have deepened your dislike of anything sexual. It would have solidified it. Quite probably, beyond the point of no return. What you are accusing yourself of failing to do would have been the worst possible thing _to_ do. If you wanted our powers to ever begin crossing, then you had to do exactly what you did do. And to reproach yourself for it . . ." Severus' hair swayed again as he shook his head. "That must stop. It will endanger you, eventually." 

"I . . . yeah," said Harry, though he was shaking his head. "Listen, everything you say makes sense and some part of me knows you're right. I mean, in a logical sense, but I can't turn my emotions on and off like a tap, you know." 

"You think I can?" Oddly, Severus sounded somewhat offended by the suggestion. 

"I didn't mean that. I know you hate what he's doing, what he stands for." 

"Is that what you think of me, that I'm made of nothing but hate?" 

Harry sighed. How could things make so much sense inside his head, but come out so wrong when he started talking? "No, I didn't mean it that way. Well, I do think you're sort of . . . reserved, when it comes to emotional things--" 

"I think you mean stunted." 

"Maybe some." Harry shrugged as he sat there. "But I'm that too, I know, so it's no big deal. Can't help it. I got ignored more often than I got talked with, as a child. But it's not like I think you don't have all the same feelings that everyone does, Severus." 

Severus' hands tightened on his. "Even . . . love?" 

Harry glanced up. Actually, he'd never really thought of Severus as the kind of person who could love. But that was stupid, of course. Everyone had _something_ they liked enough to call it love. "Yeah, sure. Why not? You love brewing, after all. And fine wine, and good books." 

"So many things I love, apparently." 

Severus sounded almost angry, then. Or at least annoyed. Which was no wonder. Most of the things Harry had named were pretty unimportant. They made Severus sound shallow, which he wasn't. But Harry knew how to set it right. 

"And you love the idea of being free, finally, from that mark on your arm." 

Hmm. Severus didn't really take that the way Harry had intended. 

"Yes, I shall be sure to remind you of your worst decisions on a regular basis, also." Severus let go of his hands and sat back. "Though granted, yours haven't been as spectacularly bad as that one." 

"Don't know about that," said Harry, thinking of Sirius. 

_Bellatrix killed Black, Harry,_ he heard Severus say again, though the man's lips hadn't moved. Well, it was true. Bellatrix had. But she was dead now, at Harry's hand. "Well, anyway . . . I see what you mean about the guilt being stupid. I'll work on it." 

Severus' eyebrows drew together. " _Stupid_ isn't quite the word I would choose." 

"It is, though." Harry sighed. "I know I can't do anything." 

"That's not true. You're doing what you can." 

Harry's laugh was bitter. "And that's all anybody has a right to ask, yeah. I know." 

"Nobody has a right to ask even that," corrected Severus. "You aren't trying to make up for past mistakes." 

"That's what you think." 

"Ah. You're thinking of your godfather." Severus paused. "But he's not the reason you gave yourself to me." 

"Not directly, but I didn't want anybody else to die." Harry sighed. "And I didn't want to die, myself, either. But people _are_ dying. Innocent people, who never did anything, who were just born with the wrong bloodlines. Why does he have to be such a prick?" 

"Because he can be, I expect." 

Harry grimaced. "And people will expect the same of me once they know how powerful I can be. And you'll have to convince them that you have me under control. Wonderful." 

"People can be very unpleasant. But your true friends won't need much convincing." 

"Ha. What happened to them being _possible exceptions_ to the wave of hysteria I'm going to cause?" 

Severus glanced down at his hands. "When I said that, I didn't realise what good friends you had." 

Harry slowly nodded, thinking that made sense. How could Severus have known how loyal Ron and Hermione would prove to be, especially since he didn't have any friends at all, except maybe Dumbledore? 

"All right, then," he said, sighing. "Maybe that's why our powers haven't been crossing so much, you think? Because I've been a little bit reluctant, deep down inside, to have that kind of power at my disposal. You know, because I don't want to be the next dark lord. I don't even want to be the next good lord, or anything. I just want to be Harry, that's all." 

Severus abruptly sat up straighter and pushed his hair away from his forehead, his fingers weaving through the strands as he moved his hand. "The reason why our powers haven't crossed fully, yet . . . no, I can't think it has anything to do with your reservations. That's not how _Podentes_ works." 

"Then how does it fucking work?" asked Harry, but without much heat. He didn't feel angry. He just felt tired, of all of this. "Because I've done everything you've wanted, haven't I?" 

No answer. Which was enough to tell him something, wasn't it? _Oh, God._ Harry suddenly felt a foreboding so strong that chills ran over his shoulders and down his back. "Severus? I _have_ done everything you've wanted, haven't I? _Haven't I?_ " 

Another long silence, but that time Harry waited it out. 

And then, the answer came. But it wasn't any kind of shock, not by then. The silence had been answer enough. 

"No." 

"What the hell do you want, then?" asked Harry, his voice rising. Because he knew the answer to that one, too. There was only one thing Severus would want and never mention. 

Only one damned thing. 

Severus' eyes were sombre when he glanced at Harry. "More variety when we make love." 

Oh, now wasn't _that_ sugar-coating the issue? "Make love," scoffed Harry, jumping up from his chair. "More variety, sure. Why don't you call it what it is, Severus? You want to fuck me in the arse, don't you? That's what you're talking about!" 

Another pause, but this one wasn't nearly as long. "Yes, that is what I'm talking about." 

For some reason, the fact that Severus was just calmly sitting there . . . it made Harry feel even more angry. As if anything could do that, after what he'd just heard! "You bastard!" shouted Harry, tempted to hit him, to wipe that smile off the other man's face. Not that Severus was smiling. "You absolute bastard! I give you _everything, everything!_ As much sex as you could possibly want! Your cock all the way down my throat, everything! How many times a day do you come, Severus? Two, sometimes three? And you just want more! You want the one thing I _can't do!_ " 

"I can't help wanting what I want, Harry." 

Again, his calmness only enraged Harry further. "Sure you can! Of course you can! You get more sex than any man your age has a right to expect, and all of it willing, too. Just like you like! Why can't you be satisfied with that, eh? Why? Why this? Why do you have to want the one thing you _know_ I can't give you?" 

"I know how far you've come and I've tried to be satisfied--" 

"Try harder!" 

Severus finally stood up, then, his hands hanging at his sides. Good thing, that. If he'd tried to take Harry's hands, or hug him, or anything like that, Harry might just hit him, after all. "Trying isn't going to make any difference. If I could lie to the bond, I would. But it knows what would satisfy me, Harry." 

"But why _that?_ " cried Harry, feeling like he was falling from hundreds of feet up, and this time, nothing would be able to save him. "Why can't you be satisfied already? You've got me! As a slave! As a sex-slave, and I don't stint, I _don't!_ And I don't even mind having sex with you, now. I mean, it's great and I'm happy to do it, as much as you want, right? We get on great in bed! Why can't that be enough?" 

Severus' voice sounded gentle, but the words were about as harsh as anything Harry could imagine. "Because it's not enough." 

"It could be, if you'd just stop wanting to have what they had!" 

"I don't want it because _they_ had it. I've wanted it from the first." Severus took a step forward, but came no closer. "Our powers have begun to cross, but the spell won't mature further, not until I'm fully satisfied." 

"And that's why you brought me here," spat Harry, fists clenching. "Because you remembered how I wanted to go upstairs for _Compulsio_ , which was horrid from start to finish, by the way. So what are we going to do, come out here every time you want to stick it to me? Well, what are you waiting for, eh? If you have to poke me so much, you'd better strip off, hadn't you?" 

"I dídn't bring you here for sex." 

"Oh, _sure_ you didn't." 

Severus raised his voice. "I brought you here to show you that list of the Dark Lord's victims. I was expecting an argument, and thought it better not to have it at home. I wasn't even going to mention wanting . . . " 

"Wanting my arse!" shouted Harry. "Tell it like it is, for God's sake! And like hell you weren't going to mention it! Why did you then, eh? So I'd bend over for you!" 

"I don't want you to _bend over for me._ I want you to enjoy it. I want you to want it. And I only mentioned wanting you that way because you asked. You _asked_ , Harry. Did you not want me to answer truthfully?" 

Harry twisted his lips. "Oh, make this my fault, right." 

"I didn't say that." 

"Well, at least now I have a solid reason to feel guilty. You want my arse, and I won't let you have it, so whatever goes wrong, it damned well _is_ my fault. Going to start a new list, now, Severus? Of all the people who die, people I could have saved?" 

Severus shook his head. "You're not to blame for any deaths, past or future. You can only do what you can, in fact, do." 

"So what was the point of telling me, then?" 

Severus' lips firmed. "You're too strong a man to want to hide, Harry. You had to know the truth, sooner or later." 

"And you decided sooner was better than later." Harry laughed, bitterly. "Don't take this wrong, 'cause I'll still suck you off twice a day, all right. What else can I do, in the circumstances? But this whole deal, with you drooling over my arse? With you wanting to fuck me, or is that fuck me over? It's sick, Severus. It's _wrong_. You know what I went through. But you don't care, do you? You don't care at all. And I . . ." 

Harry met Severus' eyes, his own gaze a steady glare. "I hate you. I really, really hate you." 

That was it, Harry thought. There was nothing more to say. He didn't even wait to hear what Severus might say in reply. 

Stomping to the Floo, he grabbed powder from the mantle and threw it down, shouting the words that would take him home. Ha, home. _Severus'_ home. 

But it was the only one Harry had. The only one he was ever going to have. 

That didn't mean he wanted to stay there. 

Grabbing the Firebolt from the closet, Harry ran through the magic doorway, shoved open a window in the upstairs rooms, and jumped atop his broom as he threw himself outside. 

  
  
  
  



	41. Chapter 41

  
  
  
  


**Monday, December 7, 1998 ---- 7:12 p.m.**

Harry wasn't anywhere to be found when Severus returned to his quarters. Severus frowned at that, but perhaps it was for the best. Time to cool off was probably what the other man needed. 

Sighing, Severus fetched a bottle of Firewhiskey and poured himself a stiff drink. A few moments later, he realised that the pacing wasn't serving any purpose. Muttering a little, he dropped into a chair and stared into the fire as he nursed his drink. 

It had probably been a mistake to discuss his true desires with Harry. 

Probably? Severus chuckled bitterly. It had _definitely_ been a mistake. 

A massive miscalculation, in fact. Worse even, perhaps, than the attitude of cool indifference that had been Severus' last serious mistake in dealing with Harry. 

There was a time and place for cool indifference, after all. Severus should have remembered that. He should have known that Harry wasn't ready to hear the truth about what Severus wanted from him. 

Severus tossed his head back and downed the rest of his drink in one swallow. 

After that, though, he stopped indulging in recriminations. They served no useful purpose, and Severus wasn't the type of man who enjoyed wasting his time. 

He'd never have survived his departure from the Dark Lord's service--his first departure, that was--if he hadn't been able to let the past and all its hideous mistakes remain just that: the past. 

What remained now was to devise a strategy for the future. Not a difficult task, all things considered. Neither he nor Harry had many options. There was nothing to be done except continue on their course. Harry had largely recovered when it came to matters sexual, but the one obstacle remained. It couldn't be surmounted just because Severus was ready for it to be no more. Harry had to be ready. And until he was, until he had fully healed and could enthusiastically enjoy sex in all its forms, there was no sense in pressuring him. 

Severus wouldn't even have mentioned the matter, save for the fact that Harry had asked. 

Severus' fingers clenched around his empty glass, because in the final analysis, it didn't really matter whether he pressured Harry or not. The daily papers had been providing plenty of pressure on their own, and unless the Dark Lord suddenly called off his latest wave of attacks--highly unlikely, in Severus' view--the articles in the Prophet would continue to torment Harry. 

It was enough to make Severus long for another drink. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Harry didn't return until long past nightfall, but at least he did return. Actually, Severus hadn't been worried about the other man running away, or some such nonsense. Harry was far too responsible to abandon the wizarding world to its fate, and even if he weren't, the spell would remind him to come home to sleep. Remind him brutally, most likely. And Harry knew that, so he had no choice but to return home each night, no matter his state of mind. 

Severus couldn't help but feel satisfied by that aspect of the spell, even if deep down, he could recognise it as something Harry would find very frustrating. 

"Good evening," said Severus as the door to his quarters clanged shut behind Harry. He wondered briefly why Harry hadn't taken the shorter route through the upstairs rooms, but perhaps he'd merely wanted a longer walk. He certainly looked as though he'd been exercising heavily. Harry's hair was plastered to his forehead and his skin looked damp with perspiration. 

"Sure it is." 

Well, at least they were talking, though Severus would have preferred a more civil reply, certainly. "Have you eaten?" 

"I do actually know to do that, Severus." 

Severus heard annoyance in that, lined with an edge of fury. Harry seemed like he could erupt into another full-blown rage with very little provocation. Severus was determined to give him none. 

"Well then, I have some marking I need to catch up on." Severus rose to his feet, only to have Harry's hand snake out to yank him close. 

"Marking? I don't think so. You have more important work to do. Namely, fucking me. Right? _Right?_ " 

Severus went still, feeling the heat of Harry's body against his own chest. He could sense the thrum of Harry's heart, a fast rhythm that said all too clearly how Harry had been working out his anger. 

Severus wanted to feel Harry's heart beating like this, yes, but he wanted the cause to be excitement. Sexual excitement, Harry bottoming and enjoying it, Harry panting as Severus thrust inside him, Harry gasping _yes, yes, more, harder_ . . . Harry crying out Severus' name as he came. 

Severus wanted all that, not this angry offer of sex for its own sake. "I don't think you're really ready for that," he said, as gently as he could. 

"Oh, now you know what I'm ready for!" 

Something seemed to die down inside Harry, then. His eyes went a dull green as he abruptly shoved Severus away and dropped into a chair. "Did I mention that you're a complete bastard?" 

"Yes, and also that you hated me." 

That got him a baleful look. "Feeling sorry for yourself? Well, don't bother. You've got nothing much to complain about." 

As Severus reckoned things, he had quite a lot. Before the invocation, he'd been looking forward to . . . no point in dwelling on that, he supposed. As he'd said many times to Harry, what was, _was_. 

"Why can't you be satisfied with what you've already got?" asked Harry in a weary voice. He sounded more defeated than angry, now. "You know you're getting plenty of sex. Have I stinted at all? I mean, since that night when we first really got together?" 

Severus felt like they'd been through this already, but if Harry needed to go through it again . . . "You've been marvellous. Of course you have. That doesn't change how I feel, what I desire, the kinds of sex I like best." Aware that he was rambling, Severus stopped speaking and took a few moments to think. When he was ready, he leaned forward and tried to catch Harry's hands in his, but Harry pulled them out of reach. So be it. 

Severus felt like his features must be rigid, he was exercising so much effort at maintaining his self-control. Better that, though, than letting Harry see how much this meant to him. How much he wanted to spare him all of this, but also, how much he wanted him to bottom. To like bottoming. 

How hopeless it was starting to seem. 

"The spell knows me, knows what I long for from my partner--" 

"Say _slave_. Weren't you the one who told me I might as well tell it like it is?" 

"Very well. The spell knows what I want from my slave. And while I can understand that you don't appreciate my desire for you--" 

"For my arse." 

Severus inclined his head. "Yes. You'd rather I didn't want that. Obviously. But Harry . . . I can't help liking what I like. My tastes were forged long before I knew you, or could know that you'd take issue with them." 

"Yeah, but would you if you could?" 

Harry's tone was little short of scathing, but Severus didn't know why. He could barely follow the question. "Would I do what?" 

"Change what you want!" 

Severus considered his answer for only a moment. "Certainly I would." 

"I don't believe you." 

Severus took no offense. The truth was that he didn't know if he believed himself. He'd change what he wanted if he could, because that would make it easier to defeat the Dark Lord. That, however, wasn't what Harry had meant. Would Severus give up his desire for that sweet arse, and content himself with blowjobs and frottage? Would he happily go the rest of his life without fucking, without thrusting, without feeling a strong young arse clenching around his cock, milking the pleasure from it? Without having that with Harry? For the war, yes . . . Severus knew he would, though he wouldn't be very happy about it, certainly. But would he do it for Harry alone? 

Severus didn't know. He also didn't want to think about it. There was little point in wasting time on such "what if" sorts of thoughts. 

"A bit ironic," he said softly, "that you'd be so intent on assigning me unreasonable blame, when just this morning, I was trying to spare you from it." 

Harry stared at him rather like a hippogriff sizing up a new acquaintance. "I don't follow." 

"You couldn't have recovered any faster than you did. You couldn't help how you felt about sex. But Harry . . . neither can I." Severus raised his shoulders as he spoke the last three words. 

For a moment, Harry just sat there. Then, he scowled. "That's not fair." 

Severus didn't bother to point out that life seldom was. Harry knew that already. "It's true, though. I can't lie to the spell, any more than you can." 

"And you only want one thing." 

Not quite accurate, but Severus wasn't going to quibble over words. 

"Well, let's just do it, then," said Harry, sitting up straighter. "Like I said to begin with." 

"You've missed my whole point if you think having you offer yourself up as a sacrifice to the wizarding world is particularly appealing." 

"Oh, fuck your point, Severus," retorted Harry, his eyes bright. "I know I'm your slave, but I also know _you_ , so I understand what kind of slave you want. You don't want a doormat you can walk all over. You want me to be a strong man in my own right, so I get some say, here. And guess what I have to say? Fuck your fastidiousness, that's what!" 

By the time Harry finished speaking, Severus was feeling winded. He wasn't sure what to react to first. Harry's clear expression of trust in Severus' intentions toward him . . . that was all to the good, but in other ways it seemed like Harry was still . . . confused, actually. 

"It's not fastidiousness!" Severus was almost tempted to smile, as he'd certainly never been described with that word before. "It's simply a fact of life. I won't enjoy sex much if you're forcing yourself--" 

"So you suffer, too. Big deal." 

"It _is_ , when the whole point is supposed to be my pleasure!" 

"Yeah, I knew that." Harry blew out a breath. "Look, I'm not explaining things very well. I just . . . this isn't like before, when the whole idea of sex was just . . . not something I wanted to think about. I like sex, now." 

"Exactly why we should wait--" 

"No, _no_ ," exclaimed Harry, shaking his head. "That's all wrong. Last time, all I had to do was heal before I could like it. You were right about that. But what those men did to me . . . I don't care if we wait ten years, I'm never going to wake up one day and decide I want that kind of sex again. Because, don't you see? I don't have any reason to want it. And I'm not going to start to, not without some reason." 

Severus felt his blood almost run cold. "What do you mean?" 

Harry shrugged, though the gesture looked a little forced. "We have to, you know . . . practice." His gaze met Severus', the green almost piercing, even as his tone went deliberately light. "Practice makes perfect, they say." 

Severus swallowed. It was difficult to refuse, since he did want Harry. Very much so. But he didn't want him this way. 

"I don't think that applies in this case. It will be like _Compulsio_ all over again." 

"No, not at all." Harry shook his head. "Because _this_ time it's my choice." 

That had been Harry's choice too, Severus thought. His demand, actually. But Severus thought he knew what Harry meant. With the deadline of his birthday looming, Harry hadn't really _had_ any choice. 

But how much choice did he have now, with the _Prophet_ reporting new deaths, new horrors, every week? Twice a week? 

"You're forcing yourself again," said Severus, shaking his head. 

Harry laced his hands together, his fingers turning a little white from the way he was clenching his hands. "Don't you understand?" His voice dropped to a low, almost ashamed tone. "Maybe you were right before, and the deaths this past month aren't my fault, because I couldn't have done anything sexual with you, any sooner than I did. But damn it, I _am_ better now, and I know it. And now that it's been brought home to me just how urgent your pleasure is, no matter _what_ form that pleasure takes--well, now that I know, I can't just go on as before. Because I _am_ better, now. Loads better. And if I have to learn to like having a cock up my arse, well then, I'm damned well going to start trying, right?" 

"You don't think you should wait until the idea has some appeal?" 

Harry's teeth glinted, but it was more of a grimace than a smile. "It's never going to have appeal on its own, Severus." 

"You said that about all kinds of sex, you realise." 

"Yeah, well this is different!" Harry shoved his chair back. "It just is. I know what I'm doing, Severus. And if you respect me at all then you'll let me lead, like you used to. Even if you do think I'm leading us into a thicket of Devil's Snare. You aren't inside my head, but I am, and if you don't . . . look, if you don't trust me the way I've trusted you over and over, you should just say so." 

Severus wasn't about to say a thing like that. He hardly wanted to live with Harry's anger and resentment over such a claim. Besides, he _did_ trust Harry. That wasn't the same as believing that his every decision was flawless. 

"You're twisting words," he said carefully. "I trust you. I trust you to do your very best. To sacrifice yourself, when required, and possibly even when not. I trust you to do whatever it takes to safeguard your friends, Harry. But that doesn't mean I always trust your judgment. You're nineteen and in many respects, you still have a lot to learn." 

"Well, there's one thing I know for sure." Harry leaned over, speaking just a few inches from Severus' face. But he kept his voice soft. That was something, at least. "I know I can start trying. It may not be the best idea in the world, but it's all I have. And Severus . .. I have to do something. I won't be able to forgive myself if more people die while I dither. And don't you say it's healing. This time it _is_ dithering, because more time isn't going to make things better. So are you with me on this, or not?" He smiled, just slightly. "Because I can't do it on my own. I need you." 

Those last three words were ones Severus had longed to hear. In this context, though, they were bittersweet. 

"Help me, Severus," said Harry, falling to his knees in front of Severus' chair. Harry laid his hands on top of Severus' forearms, and squeezed. "Say you'll help me. I don't want to read any more headlines and think that I could have done something to stop . . . the Dark Lord. I really, really don't." 

_The Dark Lord_. Harry had hesitated slightly over the phrase, but he hadn't started to say _Voldemort,_ not that time. And that told Severus something. He'd tried for years to make Harry avoid saying the Dark Lord's name, but now that he'd succeeded, the victory was like dining on bitter ashes. Saying _Voldemort_ when almost no-one else would . . . it was part of who Harry was. 

Severus didn't want Harry to change. He appreciated him the way he was, flaws and all. 

But he _would_ change, Severus suddenly thought, chills sweeping down his spine. Guilt could change a man in profound ways. Nobody knew that better than Severus himself. 

Harry needed this to be over. He needed those headlines to stop. As soon as possible, too. What if it did take years before Harry was comfortable with the idea of bottoming for Severus? By then, the guilt might have eaten him alive, and he'd be a husk of a man. 

Severus didn't want that for Harry. And he didn't want it for himself. He had to spend the rest of his life with Harry, after all. Or rather, he didn't _have_ to; _Podentes_ didn't require that of the master wizard. But Severus cared about Harry and intended to keep his vow. 

He'd much rather keep it with a relatively content Harry than one tormented by the idea that things could have been different, that he could have spared hundreds more than he had. 

And if that meant moving bottoming to the top of the agenda, as it were . . . well, Harry was the one doing the moving, wasn't he? Severus wasn't the one pressuring him. 

There was no reason for Severus to feel uncomfortable about the fact that his cock had begun to twitch. 

"All right," he said smoothly, standing up and pulling Harry up with him. One deep, long kiss, Harry as responsive as ever, and Severus could tell that this _wasn't_ going to be a replay of the night they'd used _Compulsio_. Harry would participate, this time. Harry would _try_ , instead of lie motionless, begging to be silenced so Severus wouldn't hear him cry. 

Not that Harry had cried. He'd wanted to, though. That was almost worse. 

Severus decided that he had to stop thinking about that night. Putting a hand on the small of Harry's back, he pulled their bodies closer together. Mmm . . . Harry was half-hard, it seemed, which was better than nothing, though it was still a bit disappointing. Usually an embrace and heated kiss was enough to get Harry fully ready for sex. 

Actually, by this time he'd frequently be pulling his clothes off with frantic hands. 

Harry wasn't shy about nudity, not now. He'd been entirely at ease with Severus for quite some time, now. 

Severus kissed him again, their tongues intertwining, pulling him closer even as he lowered a hand and slipped it inside Harry's trousers, feeling his cock through his pants. Such a satisfying handful, he thought as he palmed it, up and down in sure strokes. He was rewarded by Harry thrusting against him, and not like he was _trying_ , either. Like he was getting more hot and bothered by the second. 

Encouraged, Severus reached inside Harry's Y-fronts and took his cock in hand. 

Harry moaned. 

A good start, certainly, but after a few more moments of kissing, Severus was a bit bemused to realise that he didn't know what to do next. With a fully experienced partner he would feel free to simply proceed, but Harry was a special case. 

Severus drew back, panting slightly, his own cock now hard and pulsing. "Have you . . ." He had to clear his throat before he could continue, his voice was so husky. "Have you thought at all about positions?" 

Harry shrank back a little. "Oh. Um, no. I mean, I know it's a little stupid to think there are only two, the one _they_ used and the one you did, that once, but . . . er, I didn't like either one of those very much, to be honest." 

Severus nodded as he pulled his hand out of Harry's trousers. "I know you want to start _trying_ as soon as possible, but I really do think things will go better if we spend a short while talking. All right?" 

"As long as we're not still talking _if_." 

"No, you've convinced me." Not for the first time, Severus was struck by the irony woven through his whole relationship with Harry. _Harry convincing Severus to top, finally. _"We should discuss _how_ , I think." 

"Oh. All right." 

Harry took a seat on the settee and patted the cushion next to him. "So?" 

Severus paused to think. It was difficult, with Harry's thigh pressed up against his own. Or perhaps it was difficult because his mind was spinning with the promise of what this evening might hold. "There are more positions we could try, of course." 

"Good, because hands and knees is out. I can't see _ever_ liking that again. I felt . . . so helpless." Harry bit his lip. "And also like I was there to be used, like I was a thing to them. Which I was, I suppose. I'm glad they're dead. But, uh . . . you aren't going to tell me now that you really need _that_ too, are you? That position?" 

It was a position Severus enjoyed, actually. He liked the feeling of dominance it gave him. But there were other positions that were just as pleasurable. "No. You don't need to worry about that." 

"Good." Harry nodded briskly. 

"What did you dislike about lying on your side, one leg angled up, with me behind you?" 

Harry snorted. "No offense, but that was almost as creepy as the other." 

"Why?" 

It looked like Harry needed to stop and think about that. "I guess because I had to keep telling myself, _Severus, Severus, Severus. This is Severus . . ._ I'd rather be able to look at your face when we do it, see?" 

"Yes." Severus lifted a hand and made a whirling motion. "We could try having you straddle my lap. Facing me, of course." 

Harry made a noise that sounded slightly strangled. "Oh, yeah. I think I saw that one in the book I looked at. You know, in Blackwell's? But I thought it looked a bit weird." 

"You might like it more than you think. I don't think you'd feel . . . as forced, at any rate." 

"I think I'd feel silly." 

Severus could see that Harry would. "Well, the position has other drawbacks, too. It would make it more difficult for me to control how far I sink into you. Gravity rather takes care of that." 

Harry shuddered. "No, then. I need you to be able to pull out if I say, right? I mean, right away. Not that I'm planning to say. Any other ideas?" 

Severus did have one. His favourite position of all, in fact, but since he doubted it would suit Harry at all, he merely shrugged. 

"What? I can tell you're thinking of something." 

"Well, there are many positions, of course," Severus hedged. "But if you think you'd feel silly on my lap at first, there's little point in discussing them. Most are a good deal more exotic." 

"But you do have one in mind. I told you, I can tell." 

"Frottage position, but with me on top." 

"Oh." 

"You see the problem, obviously." 

"Yeah, I still don't really like anybody pinning me down." Harry sighed. "What about frottage position with _me_ still on top? I like that very much." 

"Thrusting from the bottom . . . it's much more difficult for me to aim, if you catch my meaning. More difficult in general. But if you wish . . ." 

"You don't like that position so much." 

"Honestly, no." Severus cleared his throat and stroked his fingers down Harry's cheek as they sat there. "However, it's all a matter of degree. I could manage, and it's not as though I wouldn't enjoy myself." 

Harry leaned into Severus' touch, seeming lost in thought. Finally, he spoke. "No . . . I think a position you really like would be a better place to start. Since really, your pleasure is pretty much the point." 

"Harry--" 

"It's all right. I'm used to that idea. And I meant the _spell's_ point, anyway. Not your point. I know you want it to be good for me. I _get_ that, now." 

"Are you sure you're ready to have another man's weight on you, holding you down, though?" 

"No," said Harry, a bit of a wry laugh wrapped around the word. "How about we start tonight by trying frottage again, with you on top? I ought to be able to enjoy that, once I get used to being on the bottom, literally. And then if that goes well, we can try frottage with you inside me, tomorrow." 

"And if it doesn't go well?" 

"Then we think of something else." Harry chewed his lip. "I just hope there aren't any attacks tonight. I'm going to kick myself in the morning if we don't have real sex and--" 

"Frottage is real sex." 

Harry lifted his shoulders. "Yeah, I know that. It's just . . . you know what I meant." 

"You aren't going to kick yourself in the morning. You're doing something to move this along. It's like we discussed earlier. You can only do what you're able to do. For tonight, this may well be all you can manage." 

"Ha. It probably _is_ ," said Harry. "My palms are getting clammy just thinking about it." 

Severus decided not to point out that Harry's palms couldn't think, in any case. Instead, he took one of Harry's hands between both of his own, and clasped it firmly. "Try to remember the times we had together before the invocation. You thought frottage was wonderful, no matter who was on top. Cast your mind back to then." 

"Don't suppose you'd give me a memory potion to help with that?" 

"You know I can't." 

Harry sighed, shifting over to lean more fully against Severus. "Yeah, I know. It's just . . . well, maybe the spell's not as attuned to us as we think. It didn't punish me for having an interest in the twins' shop, not until I knew about it." 

"Deliberately making yourself forget and being genuinely unaware of something . . . those are two different circumstances. We can't use magic to solve this, not least because I don't want you able to make love only when you've been potioned to do it. But if you'd rather take a few more days to think matters through . . ." 

"No, no," exclaimed Harry, jumping up from the settee. "Let's take a bath together to relax. With lots of bubbles, and some kissing and fondling and stuff, until we're both going batty, right? And then when I'm nice and primed, we'll move it into the bedroom and rub off on each other." He looked Severus up and down. "Funny how I keep thinking how to make it right for me when the whole point is supposed to be _you_. But you like things mutual, of course." 

Harry's eyes were still bright with apprehension, if not fear, but he was talking like a man with a purpose, a man determined to do what needed to be done. Severus could detect no self-pity in Harry now, and no resentment. Just determination. 

Just loyalty, to the people who needed this from him. 

Not for the first time, Severus was struck by a sense of Harry's unwavering bravery. _Cambiare Podentes_ had asked more from him than a spell had any right to ask, and Harry just kept giving. 

He'd give until he drained himself dry, Severus suddenly realised. He'd give whatever was needed. 

But what _Harry_ needed, of course, was someone who would call a halt when the time came. Severus vowed then and there to be that someone. After the Dark Lord was destroyed, if the wizarding world continued to demand of Harry things he would prefer not to give, Severus would tell them what they could do with their interviews and exposes and front-page stories. 

"So, that bath?" said Harry. "Or should we have a drink, first." 

"Alcohol can inhibit the male libido." 

"So save that until afterwards. We'll celebrate." 

Severus just hoped they'd be able to. It all depended on how healed Harry was, and whether he'd be able to tolerate the kind of frottage he'd proposed. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, December 7, 1998 ---- 10:20 p.m.**

"Wow, it's later than I thought," said Harry as he flicked his wand, casting _Tempus_ before laying it aside on the night table on his side of the bed. 

"We can always resume tomorrow night." 

"No." Harry appeared to hesitate, then. "Unless you're too tired?" 

"For sex with you? You're joking." 

Harry laughed, the sound a little strained, but only a little. "Hey, I've seen you be too tired." 

"Five minutes after making you scream, I think you mean?" 

"Yeah, well just be sure to make me scream tonight," said Harry. "And not like they did." 

"I'd appreciate it if that was the last mention of _them_ tonight," said Severus tightly. "I know this isn't easy for you. You don't have to keep reminding me." 

"Sorry." Harry moved closer to Severus, as if to apologise, standing just in front of him as he tugged the bathrobe from Severus' shoulders, and then let his own fall as well. "I'm really feeling pretty randy, even knowing what we're going to try." 

_Randy_ didn't quite describe it. Harry was fully hard, his cock jutting out from his body. Harry was even thrusting it a little, as if he needed to be _doing_ something with it. 

Well, he should need to do something, thought Severus. They'd given each other handjobs in the bath, repeatedly working the other man into a froth, then stopping just two or three strokes away from orgasm. Harry had gasped in protest, while Severus was more prone to grunt, but neither one of them had really been complaining. 

What mattered was that they be _primed_ , as Harry had put it. 

A step Severus was reluctant to take, when all was said and done. Because until Harry felt comfortable bottoming for Severus--until he _liked_ it and would ask for it--Harry had to be in charge. Harry had to take the lead. 

He seemed to figure that out in short order. Stepping back over to the bed, Harry turned the covers down several times and then slid onto the top sheet, lying on his back, head propped up on a thin pillow. "Join me, eh?" 

Severus couldn't help but notice that Harry's cock had wilted a bit. "Truly, Harry, we don't have to. There's no need to prove anything to me, or yourself. You could hardly be braver--" 

"Just join me, Severus," Harry interrupted. "Don't play hard-to-get, when I know perfectly well that you'd like to be got, eh?" 

Severus needed no second invitation. 

Stretching out beside Harry, he spent a while kissing him again, trying to work him back into that state of intense need they'd both experienced in the bath. He succeeded, too. Before long, Harry was turning towards him so he could thrust his cock up against Severus' thigh. 

Harry gasped, his muscles starting to stiffen-- 

Recognising the physical cue for what it was, Severus swiftly pushed against Harry's shoulder until the other man was lying on his back once more, then rolled atop him, positioning his body so they were lying cock to cock. 

Harry sucked in a huge breath and went stiff again. An entirely different kind of stiffness, this time. 

"It's all right," said Severus, bending his head to kiss him. Just a brief kiss, that time; it seemed to Severus that Harry needed to breathe. "Keep your eyes open. Look at me. It's Severus, yes?" 

"Y-- y-- yes." Harry brought his arms up, around Severus, and held on tight. It was as though he were trying to remind himself, or perhaps convince himself, that this time, he'd chosen to have sex. 

Green eyes seemed to bore into him as Severus thrust his hips, the motion tentative. 

"Severus," gasped Harry, but not in any kind of plea. "Severus, yeah. It's Severus. Good." 

He didn't sound like he thought it was particularly good, however. Harry's voice was tense with stress, the pitch a bit higher than normal. Panic, almost, but at least he wasn't pushing Severus away. 

"That's right, it's Severus," said Severus again as he thrust smoothly up against Harry's cock. Hmm, the friction there was almost chafing; they weren't still wet from the bath. Severus almost reached for his wand, but had a better idea. "Why don't you cast a slickness spell for us, Harry?" 

_Good_ , thought Severus a moment later. Harry fumbled for his wand and cast the spell over too wide an area, messing the sheets as well as both of them, but Severus thought he seemed marginally more at ease, afterwards. He was a participant this time, not a victim. 

"You remember how we used to do this," said Severus, angling his hips a little more sharply. Then a quick thrust. _Ahhh._ "The first time, you thought it was brilliant. You even liked the sound of the word, I think." 

"Yeah," said Harry, his cock still only half-hard. "I . . . yeah, I remember." 

Severus bent his head, letting the edges of his hair sweep along Harry's shoulders. "Thrust against me, then, hmm? I'm sure you remember how. Just do what feels good." 

"What feels good . . ." Harry made a thin noise of distress. "I think I want you to get off me." 

_Oh_. A twinge of disappointment coursed through Severus, but he began to roll to the side so he could comply. Harry's hands, still clutched around his back, tightened. 

"No, don't. I didn't mean it. Well, I did, but-- I just need a minute. I can _do_ this. I can. Just keep moving, Severus. _Severus_." 

Severus had to concentrate a little to get properly hard himself, after Harry's moment of panic. Harry, however, was so appealing that it didn't take Severus long. Young, fit, his well-muscled chest a feast for Severus' eyes . . . nothing to separate their cocks except a thin layer of slick scented oil . . . it wasn't long until Severus was thrusting in earnest, and shuddering from head to toe with the effort of _not_ coming. He wanted them to come together. Or failing that, he wanted Harry to climax first. 

"I can't seem to stop thinking--" Harry visibly swallowed. "Maybe you could talk more, Severus. I keep hearing--" 

Severus knew what he was hearing. He'd heard it all himself, or at least a good portion of it, that time he'd used the mind-bond to see what had happened to Harry in London. Filth. Unimaginable filth such as Severus had rarely heard. 

_Nice, tight hole you've got here, Potter_ , Bole had joked as he'd thrust brutally into Harry. Only it was no joke. _By the time I'm through with it, it's not going to be quite so tight, however. We'll have to fit you with a plug before we take you to see the Dark Lord, so you don't close up again. Not that you're likely to keep it in for long. When we tell them what a good fuck you make, everybody'll want a turn---_

Severus didn't actually know how Bole could have said so much while he was fucking. Perhaps he had to. Perhaps the only way he could achieve his pleasure was to keep up a steady stream of verbal abuse. 

Severus didn't know what he could do to erase Bole's voice from Harry's memory--short of spells he couldn't allow himself to use--but he did think that Harry's idea of Severus talking was probably a good one. 

"You feel wonderful," he said softly, thrusting, his hands coming up to rub Harry's shoulders, trying to ease the lines of stress there. "You're mine, and I'm never going to share you, not with anyone." 

He had to stop to take a breath as he kept on thrusting. Harry's cock was hardening now; Severus could feel it, a slick rod that made Severus' every motion all the more pleasurable. "And I'm yours," he went on, panting. "And you can have me whenever-- whenever--" 

It was all too much for Severus, particularly coming after the long, stressful day he'd had, wondering where Harry had got to and what mood he'd be in when he came home. To have this, to be on top in one sense if not in every sense, when he'd so little expected it . . . to hear and see Harry beneath him, lips parted in passion, hips moving to match his own thrusts . . . 

Severus tried to restrain himself, tried to wait, but when it came to Harry, his usual self-control was shaky at best. 

He came wildly, gasping, thrusting, crying out, his release so sudden and forceful that for a moment, it seemed like Harry was his whole world. 

Afterwards, of course, he felt like a perfect idiot. Harry was still now, just staring up at him, his green eyes dazed. It came to Severus then that for all it had seemed that Harry was his whole world, what he'd just done was forget all about what Harry needed! 

Severus groaned, then. "Sorry--" 

"For what?" 

Rolling off of Harry, Severus flung an arm across his eyes. "I stopped thinking about you and pleased myself." 

"But Severus," said Harry, his voice nearer. When Severus moved his arm and cracked an eye, he saw that Harry was propped up on one elbow, looking down at him. "Don't you remember? I learned it from you." 

Severus was in no mood for games. "Learned what?" he asked, a bit sharply. 

Harry's hand, stroking across his chest and then moving down to fondle his cock and balls, made Severus feel much better, though. About everything. 

"When you do what feels good to you," Harry said, toying with the hairs on Severus' stomach, now, "it feels good to the other person, too. At least, when you're making love instead of forcing somebody." 

Severus pulled himself up by his elbows to lean on the pillows at the head of the bed. "So that felt good to you, you mean to say?" 

"Severus, I came too!" 

"You did?" 

Harry laughed, just slightly. "I'm only smeared with it. Though I suppose you might not know whose is whose. You really didn't _notice_?" Harry laughed again, the sound more carefree. "Don't worry about it. That's good, right, for crossing powers and everything, that you were into it so much. And I don't think you let yourself get lost in it until you were sure that I was going to be all right." 

"True." Severus still felt like he should have done better, but perhaps he was over-thinking everything, as he'd once accused Harry of doing. Certainly, the other man seemed to be in good spirits. 

And that was what counted, after all. 

"Are you still set on the same course of action for tomorrow?" 

Harry yawned. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, frottage went well enough. Bit tough at first, felt like I was suffocating, but after a while I stopped thinking about that, so much. Your voice helped. So remember that tomorrow, I guess." 

Severus decided he would definitely remember it, but he still couldn't help wondering whether Harry was pushing himself ahead too fast.  
  
  
  



	42. Chapter 42

**Tuesday, December 8, 1998 ---- 8:38 p.m.**

"Bit stupid to be so nervous," said Harry the next evening. It _was_ stupid, but knowing that didn't seem to make any difference. He'd been on edge all day, and the closer it had got to nightfall, the more often he'd felt his breathing hitch. Dinner, sitting by Severus' side at the head table, had been faintly like torture. Harry kept feeling like Severus was staring at him, which wasn't true at all. That was just Harry's self-consciousness rearing its head. On one level, he couldn't believe that _he'd_ been the one to insist that they just go ahead and . . . do it. 

Or start doing it, rather, since Harry didn't have much confidence that their first attempt would go all that well. He'd been much more optimistic the previous night, after that hot frottage session. But now, standing in front of the Floo, looking Severus up and down, remembering the sheer _size_ of the man's cock, remembering how that cock had felt, that once, shoved up his bum . .. it was all Harry could do not to shudder. 

After all, rubbing off on each other was one thing. They'd done it dozens of times. They'd done it before Harry went to London, even. Which maybe explained why he was all right with it, actually. And so what if he'd managed last night to tolerate Severus' weight on top of him? As breakthroughs went, that one was pretty dismal. It wasn't as though Severus had done anything _with_ that weight, was it? Not anything Harry was likely to object to. He hadn't even used his fingers. Hadn't tried to penetrate Harry at all. 

But tonight he was going to. 

"So, let's get started," said Harry, trying to sound happy about it. Or at least, not completely miserable. From the look on Severus' face, he hadn't succeeded. 

"I'd like to walk into Hogsmeade for a drink." 

"A drink?" Harry twisted a lip. It wasn't like he was expecting to come, not with what he was facing tonight, but he didn't see the sense in making it even harder, either. "That tends to make things more difficult for a man, remember?" 

Severus raised his chin fractionally. "You can order pumpkin juice if you prefer." 

"I can get that here." 

"Dessert, then." 

Severus sounded a bit snappish, Harry thought. Not to mention irrational. "I can get that here, too." 

For that, he got a baleful look. It was amusing, actually. Severus looked just the way he used to during class, when Neville would ask a particularly brainless question, but now, that look just didn't have the impact that it used to. Now, it looked like Severus was _trying_ to use his expression to shut Harry up. 

Harry smiled, thinking that if he'd been able to see Severus' expressions in that light all those years ago, he'd probably have had fewer boilovers in potions class. 

"All right, you want a walk. To unwind, something like that. I don't suppose a stroll around the castle would do the trick?" 

Severus _did_ look tense, Harry suddenly thought. Strange how that would make Harry feel better about everything. 

"I want to begin the evening by treating you as my lover," the other man said stiffly. "Which to you, as I recall, means being taken out for meals and such." 

"You can't walk 'round the castle with your lover?" 

"The other means more to you," Severus insisted. Stubbornly. 

He was wrong . . . it didn't mean more. But that Severus would want so much to put Harry at ease . . . that meant enough that Harry decided not to argue further. "All right," he said, shrugging. "One of those molten chocolate volcanos they served at that place you took me to last time, that sounds good. Especially if I can get one that's erupting--" 

When Severus grimaced, Harry felt like they were back to their usual camaraderie with one another. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, December 8, 1998 ---- 9:58 p.m.**

The chocolate volcano had been brilliant, and Severus good company, so Harry knew he should be relaxed, now. The way he figured it, that had been the whole point of the outing. Severus had done everything he could, it seemed, to put Harry at ease. Dessert for two out in Hogsmeade--neither one of them drinking--then casual conversation on the walk home, Severus carefully avoiding any subject that might have sexual overtones. They hadn't even held hands, though of course Severus was well-aware that Harry didn't really want to call attention to himself--or his personal life. 

That life was about to get a great deal more personal, Harry thought, gulping as he stood there in Severus' front room. Of course he was gulping, for what was Severus doing but conjuring instruments? Jazz quartet, again, playing something with a slow, sultry rhythm. Even Harry could tell that the song sounded like sex. 

The whole thing was like a flashing neon light, blinking straight in his face, letting him know, in case he was too dense to figure it out on his own, that the "casual" phase of their evening had ended. Now, everything they did would have but one end in mind. 

Sex. 

Penetration. 

Harry felt sick. 

Severus opened his arms. "Hmm?" 

No choice, really. It would be churlish to refuse to dance. Harry went to lean against Severus, his cheek on the other man's shoulder. Severus' hands began rubbing Harry's lower back as they swayed together, the music guiding their slow, synchronized steps. 

Churlish or not, Harry couldn't bear more than a few minutes of it. 

"Look," he said, pulling back, "All this build-up . . .this isn't necessary. I'd rather just, you know . . . strip off and get down to business." 

"Get it over with, you mean," said Severus, pulling him back into an embrace. "You felt that way the night we used _Compulsio_. But then, all you needed was my semen inside you. This is different. You need to learn to make love with me when you bottom. Unless you're already on fire for me, stripping off so we can 'get down to business' isn't the way to go about things." 

"Yeah, all right." Harry leaned more heavily against Severus. "You're . . . yeah, I know exactly what you mean. The other sounds easier, that's all. I mean, a lot easier." 

"We don't have to do this tonight." 

Huh. Harry got the feeling that Severus wanted to put things off, which was a little bit strange. Surely, Harry should be the one feeling _that_ way. But he wasn't. He'd been lucky that morning; no new atrocities, or at least, no headlines about any. Luck like that wouldn't hold, though. Harry had to do his very best to please Severus in bed, please him fully, and that meant more than blowjobs. He knew that, now. 

And whatever Severus said about it being too soon, Harry knew he was ready to _try_ , at least. 

He began unbuttoning his shirt as he talked. "Don't worry, Severus. Everything'll work out all right. Come on, you take off your shirt, too. I remember bare-chested dancing being pretty arousing. And that's the idea, right? Arousal, not getting it over with." 

The dancing had been good before, but it was more exciting once they were pressed close against each other, once Harry could feel the warmth from Severus' skin soaking through his own to heat his muscles. "Mmm, good," he murmured as he swayed to the music, mostly because it was, but also because it seemed like Severus needed some reassurance that they were doing the right thing. "You feel good." 

"You, too," said Severus in a thick voice. "Harry . . ." 

"Let's just dance." Harry looped his arms about Severus' neck and pressed his whole body more closely against the other man's. 

Severus fell silent, then. Harry counted that a good thing. He wasn't sure how many times he could insist they go through with this. If Severus kept trying to dissuade him, Harry might just take the coward's way out. And what good would that do him, really? Putting things off tonight might be a relief, but he couldn't put them off forever. Sooner or later, he would have to do as Severus wanted. And later, he would probably have to do it knowing that people had suffered and died while he put things off. 

Better to just face the music tonight. Now. 

"Let's move this to the bedroom, now," said Harry, tugging on Severus as he spoke. "Come on. And don't tell me again that I don't have to. I _know_ that, right? I want to." 

"I wish you did," murmured Severus in a dark tone, but other than that, he didn't voice any objections. 

"Let's pretend this is any other night," said Harry, thinking fast as the bed loomed into view. He didn't think he could get through this if it was just a case of lying down and spreading his legs so Severus could start in with the fingers. Funny how a few moments ago he'd just wanted to get it over with, and now he was . . . well, not putting it off, not exactly. But he could see that Severus was right about how to proceed. Things would be a lot worse than they had to be if they didn't have the kind of touching and kissing that had always been a regular part of their lovemaking. 

Harry dropped to his knees and began to unbutton Severus' trousers. When he peeled the fabric back and lowered the man's pants, and that large cock came into view, his mouth watered. As well it should; Harry loved giving blowjobs. He loved them even more since he'd learned how to take Severus all the way down his throat. The feeling of power was wonderful. The knowledge that he could make the other man gibber, and stagger. That _he_ was good enough to make Severus go weak in the knees. 

Harry loved everything about it. And that wasn't even counting the flavour of the smooth velvety head, the slick feel of that cock sliding into his mouth, the satisfying sensation of being _filled_ that way . . . 

Strange how the size of Severus' cock could be something so exciting when he thought about sucking it, but still so alarming when he thought about . . . other things. 

Needing a distraction, Harry opened his mouth and began to lick and suckle, teasing that cock. He felt better as soon as he started the blowjob. This was familiar. This was exciting. And safe. He knew what to expect, he knew it would be brilliant, all of it . . . 

Harry drew back to take a breath. "Mmm, you taste so _good_ \--" 

"Better than chocolate volcano?" 

That made him grin, even as both his hands pumped Severus' cock to keep it interested. "I don't know. I guess I'll have to make you explode." 

But of course, he couldn't do any such thing, and he knew it. Severus was going to come tonight, but not down Harry's throat. 

When the other man's climax seemed to be close at hand, Harry reluctantly pulled back and clambered to his feet. "Dungeons need some thicker, softer rugs." 

"Ah, you're angling for a massage." 

Harry almost said _no_ , but it was a good way to proceed, so he nodded. 

Strange that Severus didn't try to undress him, Harry thought, but the other man did seem to be focussed on letting Harry lead, tonight. Harry was hardly going to object to that, considering. 

Anyway, by then he'd concluded that his "obey-Severus" routine really wasn't working so well. It hadn't made their powers cross faster, or better. Only _pleasing_ Severus would do that, it seemed, and obedience wasn't what Severus wanted from him. 

Ironic, really. Harry had been afraid at first that Severus was the kind of man who would just _love_ to have Harry as a slave. And now, if he _were_ that sort of man, things would be much more simple. More manageable. 

But what was _, was_. 

Harry shucked off his own clothes, lowering a hand to his cock as it came into view. But not to hide it. He liked having Severus look at him, these days. He started palming himself back to full hardness, the way he'd been as he'd knelt to take Severus in his mouth. 

"My prerogative, I believe," murmured Severus as he finished taking off his own clothes. Stepping close to Harry, he replaced Harry's hand with his own, and held Harry's cock in a firm, warm grip. "Mmm?" 

It seemed like he was asking permission. Harry gave it to him by tilting his face up and licking his lips. Severus wasted no time in responding to the unspoken message. 

_Nothing like a steamy kiss with a tall, dark man while he rubs your cock to make it all seem all right,_ thought Harry as the kiss went on. 

Sometime in the middle of it, they tumbled onto the bed, Severus' lying atop Harry. A brief moment of panic almost broke the spell, but then Harry remembered the previous night's frottage, and pleasure washed over him. Severus on top didn't bother him, not really. It was like expecting your ankle to hurt because you'd twisted it a while ago. You kept anticipating a twinge when you stepped on it, for a while after it had all healed up. Right? 

_Yes, like that_ , Harry told himself, bucking his hips up, causing his cock to slide forward and back through Severus' cupped fingers. 

Severus moved his weight more fully atop Harry, and deepened their kiss. 

They probably could have gone on like that all night, since Severus showed no sign of moving onto other things . . . though he did slow down his hand whenever Harry began to feel like his climax was about to pound through him. 

It got to be maddening, after a while. 

But perhaps that was the point. Severus wanted Harry to lead. He wanted Harry to _ask_. 

And knowing Severus, Harry knew just what to ask for. _Push your cock into me now . . ._ that wasn't going to do it, not in the least. 

"Fingers," he gasped, ripping his mouth away from the other man's so that he could speak. "Do that thing with your fingers, like before, when you were sucking me at the same time. But-- but-- but don't let me come, I guess. Save that for when you . . . yeah." 

For all Harry had got used to Severus' heavy weight atop him, it was still a relief when the man moved down the bed. Remembering when they'd done this before, Harry scooched up to give Severus more room, and opened his legs to give Severus access. His throat went dry at that, but he knew it really shouldn't have. This was familiar, right? He wasn't pinned to a bed, helpless, on hands and knees with his arse high in the air. 

He wasn't here to be used, not really. Not like that. 

Not anything like that. 

He felt the tingle of a spell washing through his lower body. 

"All right, Harry?" 

Harry laughed, but not in amusement or relief. It was nervous energy spilling out. "I need . . . don't ask me that. I mean it. Don't ask again. I don't want to keep asking myself the same thing, and that's all that happens when you ask it, and--" Harry stopped and took a breath. "I'll tell you if I have a problem, Severus." 

"Of course." Severus fell largely silent then, except for low, vague noises of pleasure, but that only made sense. He had wrapped his lips around Harry's cock, and was moving his head up and down on it in a steady rhythm that had Harry wriggling on the bed, eager for more. For a while, that was all there was: just heat and wetness and a slow, warm build toward climax. 

Just as Harry had asked, Severus didn't inquire again if he was all right. He didn't even stop to check if Harry was ready for the next step. Instead, in one seamless motion as he continued to suck Harry's cock, he moved a hand to rest his fingers against Harry's entrance. 

Harry jerked; he couldn't help it. 

Severus' other hand settled onto Harry's thigh and massaged the taut muscle there, until Harry relaxed and subsided into the mattress. _Severus_ , he told himself. _This is Severus._

Unfortunately, there was no smooth, deep voice to remind Harry of that. He couldn't even see Severus' face, which had been the whole point--or one of them--of this position. What he could do, though, was lift up on his elbows a little so that he could catch a glimpse of Severus' black hair. 

_Mmmm_. Shoulder-length black hair brushing against Harry's thighs with every movement of Severus' head. Rhythmic motion, up and back as he continued to suck Harry's cock with sure, steady confidence. 

Harry lay back down and concentrated on the sensation of that hair sweeping his bare thighs. _Severus' hair. Severus, taking care of Harry, as he'd taken care of Harry all along, Making sex good for him. Putting Harry in charge. Waiting, as long as it took, until Harry was ready . . ._

That finger was still resting against his entrance. Harry wouldn't say he'd got used to it, not exactly, but concentrating as he was on the blowjob, and the feel of Severus' silky hair, he'd stopped paying so much attention to that part of his body. 

That all changed when the finger began swirling in little circles, massaging the puckered flesh surrounding his entrance, probing it lightly. 

_Not like them,_ Harry told himself, frantically clenching his thighs in an effort not to kick out or roll away from the contact. _They didn't take any time to prepare me. This is proof that this is Severus. Severus who . . . cares about making this good for me._

_Which probably isn't even possible, but I can hardly blame him for trying._

Harry refocused his mind on the blowjob. He felt a bit bad, actually, that Severus was trying so hard for so little purpose; the more that finger swirled and moved, the less Harry was able to enjoy any of this, blowjob included. But he did feel bad about it, so he gave a little bit of a moan, trying to sound like he was still enjoying himself a lot. 

It must have fooled Severus, or at least encouraged him, since the other man sped up his tempo. Or maybe that was just Severus reacting to Harry's obviously wilting cock. 

Well, at least he was still half-hard. Otherwise, Severus might stop completely, and insist they wait until Harry was really ready to take this step. 

_Fuck that_ , thought Harry. Thinking about this all day, worrying about it, that was a lot worse than going through with it. He wasn't going to wait day after day, all the while feeling like his mind was coming unhinged from the stress. 

"In," he gasped, shifting his hips forward to tell Severus that yes, he _was_ ready. "Just . . . in." 

Severus' finger moved with slick slowness past his entrance, breaching the ring of muscle which had hurt so horribly when _they_ had ploughed past it. 

Severus' finger now was nothing like that. It wasn't even the same as it had been that night when they'd used _Compulsio_ , when Harry had wanted to claw his way out of the bed, and only the spell had kept him in place. This . . . Harry _was_ ready for it. Which wasn't to say that it felt pleasant. But neither was it like torture. It was just . . . a finger up his bum. Severus' finger. 

Severus, who wouldn't hurt him. 

Harry jerked his hips again. Forward, not back. "In. Yes. All the way." 

Severus lifted his mouth off Harry's cock. "Push out as I push in." 

When Harry did, that finger slipped farther inside with little resistance. The sensation wasn't terrible, though it did make Harry sort of want to squirm, and not with arousal. The blowjob helped, though. It kept him on the edge of pleasure, at least, which meant that everything happening on this bed had an entirely different feel to it, than what had gone on in-- 

_No. Not going to think about that,_ Harry sternly told himself. 

The sweep of Severus' hair wasn't enough, he suddenly thought. Squirming on the bed, Harry managed to get a couple of pillows behind him, which gave him enough of an angle so that he could reach down and feel Severus' hair as the blowjob continued. Long strands fell between his fingers, caressing them. And that helped, too. 

Severus began moving his finger in and out, the smooth slide of it not painful in the least, though Harry still found himself tensing, struggling with himself not to inch back, to get away. But his stomach wasn't really clenching; he didn't even feel like he needed to beg to be silenced. As unpleasant as he found all this, he wasn't precisely revolted. 

The best description, he supposed, was that his reluctance was controllable. By himself, this time. He didn't need a spell to help him through it. 

Severus twisted his wrist, pushing in more than he had before, and Harry realised he was reaching for his prostate. When he brushed it, though, it produced nothing more arousing than a mild _zing_ of sensation. A tiny jolt coursing through Harry's cock. Harry could have remained silent through it, but he didn't want Severus to feel like there was no point in being a considerate lover, so he let himself gasp, just a little. 

Another finger joined the first, Severus moving as slowly and carefully as before, and then finally a third, pressing into him. That burned no matter the care Severus was taking, and reminded Harry of another burn, a fierce, deep one that he'd thought would split him in two. 

_But it won't be like that with Severus_ , he told himself, lying stiff as a board, by then. It was either that or shake, and he wasn't going to do that to Severus. _It wasn't like that with Compulsio. His cock was big--way too big--and it burned some, but I didn't feel like I wouldn't be able to sit a broom for a week . . ._

When Harry felt his prostate being stroked again, he stopped caressing Severus' hair and lay back down flat, shoving the pillows out of the way. They fell with a soft _plop_ onto the floor. He bit his lip for a moment. The _zings_ coursing through his cock were better than nothing, he supposed, but he just felt wound so tight that by then, he _did_ want to have this over with. 

Over and done with, and then next time would be better, right? Because it was bloody well obvious that _this_ time wasn't going to include any mind-shattering orgasms or shouts of _more, more, faster, faster._

"Cock now," Harry rasped. "Really. I want to." 

_I want this finished_ , was more what he meant. And Severus probably knew it, so there was no need to say it out loud. All it could do was dim the other man's arousal and slow things down, and that certainly wasn't what Harry wanted. 

Severus moved up and lay atop Harry to cover his body. "I need a little while," he murmured, before lowering his mouth. 

Kissing, yeah. That was always good, and this time, as Severus began to grind his hips, Harry felt no sensation of panic, no need to get away. Frottage, yeah. Harry could handle that. His cock even got a bit more interested in the proceedings. All through the fingers-business, Harry's erection had stood at half-mast, at best, but now he was feeling like a healthy young man again, able to please and be pleased, able to come and _want_ to come. 

Harry wrapped his arms and legs around Severus and kissed him for all he was worth. 

And that was all it took to rouse Severus fully: Harry's enthusiastic, genuine response. 

Harry, acting like his lover. 

No . . . Harry _being_ his lover. 

All that though, didn't change a brief moment of panic when Severus shifted his hips down a bit, and held himself up on one palm as his other hand reached down to grasp his cock, positioning it. 

The large head butted up against Harry's entrance. Well-slicked, well-stretched now, his entrance; Severus had prepared him thoroughly. Harry almost screamed, but managed to just clench his teeth. A vision flashed before his eyes. Bole, Talmadge, leering . . . but that was completely wrong, of course. It was a scene from his nightmares, not from real life. He hadn't been able to see their faces, not during. 

But he could see Severus'. 

Harry opened his eyes wide and stared into the other man's dark eyes. 

"All right?" Severus asked. 

Harry wanted to hit him. Of _course_ it wasn't all right! But equally true was that Harry wasn't going to utter a word of protest. Not even a peep, not if he could help it. "Yeah, sure," he said in a tight voice. Best he could do, since Severus was making him talk. For the first time, then, Harry sensed that there was such a thing as taking too much care. And the implications of that made him angry. More than angry. "What do you think I am, a girl? A china doll that'll break in half? I'm a man, damn it, and if you don't treat me like one, I'll--" 

Actually, Harry didn't know what he'd do. But he knew what to do, now. 

His legs were still wrapped around Severus'. Harry jerked them towards himself, making Severus' cock bump up more firmly in between his arse cheeks. Again, not a great feeling. But Harry could take it. 

Severus pushed in, then, and Harry felt the head of that large cock sliding past his entrance and into his body, the motion smooth. The pressure of that cock inside him was unreal; this time, Harry hadn't had a numbness spell to take away the leading edge of sensation. He didn't want one, though. All that mattered was pleasing Severus, and the idea that Harry needed magic to help him bear making love--that wasn't so likely to please him, was it? 

One inch, two inches, on and on, Severus moved slowly, carefully inward. Like Harry indeed might break, but Harry wasn't offended. The cock inside him was huge, and until Harry learned to take it, an abrupt lunge forward sounded like a distinctly bad idea. 

The cock inside him suddenly stopped pressing forward, Severus pausing to exchange a few slow, wet kisses with Harry. Letting Harry get used to his size, his girth, Harry thought. That idea was a very good one, and not just because physically, Harry needed time to adjust. The pause underlined something else for Harry. 

Bole and Talmadge hadn't stopped for anything. 

But then, they'd been trying their best to make Harry cry. Not that Harry had. 

"Yeah, good," Harry murmured as Severus lifted his head. "Really. Don't worry about me." 

He might not have spoken so confidently if he'd known what it would feel like when Severus pushed his cock through that ring of muscle all the way, to lodge it fully inside Harry's body. The burn, the size, the pressure--it was almost too much. Harry gasped and clutched at Severus' shoulders, his nails raking slight furrows in the skin, but he felt like he needed to be doing something more to release the intense discomfort in his arse. _All_ the way in his arse. 

"Bite my shoulder," said Severus, dropping down more fully atop him. 

Harry did, though he was careful not to lose control. He didn't want to take a chunk out of Severus' skin. 

Severus paused again when he was fully inside Harry, and kissed him for a while longer before he began to slide back and forth inside him. Not full strokes; he wasn't plunging back and forth. In some sense of the word, he wasn't even _fucking_. It was more like he was coasting on pleasure, making little noises in the back of his throat as his hips moved slightly to shift the angle of his cock. 

Harry concentrated on his face, on his hair, on his dark eyes, and tried not to let much show on his own face. He didn't want Severus to know that frottage was at least ten times better. 

It wasn't as though Harry could keep that a secret, though. A man's body gave him away, every time. 

As if sensing Harry's thoughts, Severus reached in between their bodies and positioned Harry's cock so it was pointing up, at his face. 

Oh. That was better. At some point Harry had got flaccid enough that his cock had flopped down to point at his own balls, but now that it was positioned for frottage, he began to feel more sensation down there. 

Actually, this position was a _lot_ like frottage. Well, except for the stretching sensation in his bum. Harry didn't much like that, but he told himself to ignore it and just pretend that he and Severus were rubbing each other off. Yeah, that would work. It was flat, taut belly against his cock instead of another hard cock, but Harry could pretend, right? And if his arse sort of burned still, well, there were always those slight _zings_ he was getting, right? Because Severus was nudging his prostate with every third stroke, it seemed like. 

Harry shifted his hips up, thrusting against Severus, just like during frottage. 

The moment Harry began responding, Severus' own thrusts grew more bold. More intense. He drew out farther with every stroke, and pushed himself in a little bit more quickly, until at some point, Harry couldn't help but notice that Severus was definitely fucking him. 

Fucking him thoroughly, in fact. 

It wasn't bad by then. Severus had a big cock, but after all that preparation and then Severus' slow caution as he'd first begun, Harry felt sort of loose and limber down there. It didn't hurt any more, either, other than a kind of low, slow burn, like a twinge of discomfort. Really, on a physical level it was all right, if not exactly thrilling for Harry. 

If he thought of it as frottage, he even got a burst of pleasure now and again. Not as much as _real_ frottage gave him, but enough that Harry could moan a little bit from time to time and act like he was enjoying himself. 

The best thing about it was probably the part that surprised Harry most. He _wasn't_ thrown back into the past, not the way he'd expected to be. He'd thought it would be like it had been with _Compulsio_ , with Harry wishing every second that he could be somewhere else. But no, this was all right. Doable . . . A lot of that had to do with Harry keeping his eyes open, he thought. Severus' were closed a lot of the time, but Harry kept staring up, keeping himself focused on dark hair and pale skin. Keeping himself in the here and now, where he needed to be. 

And actually, watching Severus was a pleasure in of itself. The way his jaw clenched as he thrust in, the way his mouth would part every time Harry thrust up to meet him. Half-way through, Harry reached up a hand and began tracing Severus' features, wanting to memorize that look of pure animal delight that filled them. The moment his finger brushed the other man's lips, though, it was taken into Severus' mouth and suckled, Severus working on it the same way he'd worked Harry's cock, earlier. 

That made Harry's cock stiffen, actually, and made him jerk his hips up more sharply to meet Severus' thrusts. 

So of course, Severus kept on laving his finger. 

The one thing Severus _didn't_ do was ask Harry a hundred and fifty more times if he was all right, or if this thrust or that thrust was too hard and pounding. Severus just fucked him, which Harry appreciated, because it meant he wasn't being treated like he'd break in half. Of course, neither was he being pounded into the mattress. Severus wasn't fucking him with abandon, as far as Harry could tell. Even though he was pulling almost fully out of Harry on each stroke now, and pushing in just as fully, he was being a little reticent about it. A little careful. 

Harry appreciated that, too. 

Harry wasn't sure just how long Severus kept up his steady strokes. He just knew that it seemed to take a long time for the man to come. Odd, really. The way Severus had talked about wanting Harry to bottom, Harry had been pretty sure that Severus would find this too exciting to bear for long. But then, Severus had done this plenty of times before. It wasn't a new, exciting experience for _him_. And it wasn't one for Harry, either, because it just wasn't that exciting, full stop. 

But finally, Severus got a look on his face that was unmistakable. Harry knew, he just _knew_ , that the other man's toes were curling. 

"I'm going to-- I'm going-- I can't stop--" gasped out Severus in a throaty voice. 

As if Harry wanted him to stop. Really, he was ready for this to be over. He might be nicely stretched out down below now, but if this went on too much longer he knew he'd be getting sore, all the same. 

Harry wrapped his legs more tightly around Severus and urged him on. "Yeah, go on and come," he said, and then, because that didn't sound very arousing when he heard it emerge, he tried again. "I want you to come, Severus. I want to feel you shuddering with it--" 

That was all it took. Severus hissed a breath in through his teeth, and then his whole body snapped rigid for an instant. And then his hips were jerking, driving into Harry with a new kind of force that he thought _would_ leave him a little sore, after all. But that was all right. It wasn't like he was hurt or anything. And it didn't take long, less than a dozen thrusts and Severus grunted and stiffened, before halting his thrusts. 

Afterwards, Severus rolled off him and stroked a hand down Harry's hip, his fingers toying with Harry's cock, still not fully hard. "That was . . . " Harry saw the man's cheek contract a little, like he was fighting a tick. "I wish you could have found that more enjoyable." 

Harry shrugged. "It was all right. I mean, I'd be fine doing that again. As much as you want." 

Severus' lips twisted. Both of them. "I'd still rather you enjoyed it more." 

"Well, maybe that'll come." 

"You didn't." 

"Come?" 

"Yes, come!" 

Harry had known he wouldn't. That it had been foolish to even think he could. "Look, isn't it supposed to be true that sex gets better with practice?" 

"How would you know a thing like that?" 

Harry wasn't sure. From Hermione, maybe. "Does it matter? I just think--look, you're expecting too much." Frustrated, Harry sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe because every other kind of sex seemed to snap into place for us without much trouble.Well, once I was ready to let it. So this takes a while longer, right? Big deal." 

Severus sighed as he leaned over to collect the pillows Harry had knocked off earlier. "You're right, of course. You did remarkably well, considering everything." 

"Yeah." Harry nodded. He almost added that he wasn't going to get sick to his stomach, this time, but decided at the last second that reminding Severus of that wasn't so helpful. 

Perhaps the other man had it in mind, anyway. "Do you need a pain potion or muscle relaxant or . . . any sort of potion?" 

"No. I'm fine, really." 

"I'll finish you off, then," said Severus, yawning a bit. It was quite late, Harry thought. 

"No, that's all right--" 

"I insist. What would you like most?" 

Harry really wasn't very interested in sex by that point; he felt like tea that had been brewed too many times, or something. But he knew Severus, and he knew that the evening wasn't going to be nearly as satisfying for the other man if Harry didn't come at all. "It's pretty late, but I need a bath, I think. Why don't you come in with me and bring me off in the water?" 

One warm bath, and lots of lube later, Harry tumbled back into bed feeling relaxed and sated. The soak had helped his bum, too. Not that he'd been sore, exactly. He'd just been able to tell that he'd been fucked up the arse recently. He could still tell that, actually, but the sensation was much more muted, now. And anyway, the main thing he was feeling was relief. He'd done it. He'd bottomed. He'd pleased Severus. 

Harry yawned as he snuggled up against Severus to sleep. 

The other man's voice was tentative. "You sound . . . happy?" 

Harry thought about that for a moment. "Yeah, think I am. At least I know for sure now that I can do it." 

"But you didn't enjoy it." 

Severus was like a wizard with a new wand, Harry thought. He couldn't let it go. Which was to his credit, maybe. But it was a little annoying, so Harry wasn't sure. "I did enjoy it," he insisted, which was overstating the case. By a lot. But he hadn't hated it from start to finish or anything, so he thought the claim was true in spirit, at least. "I just didn't come. And listen, I may be new to this but I know enough about sex to know that people don't always have to. Don't worry, Severus. It'll get better." 

"Yes, it will." 

Severus said that in a solemn voice, almost like a vow. Harry should have been reassured by that, he knew. But he wasn't. It sounded to him like he was in for it, like next time, Severus was going to try even harder, which would just make things last even longer. 

Harry shivered, but then he made himself think pleasant thoughts . . . so he could get to sleep. 

He'd done it. He'd bottomed, and Severus had enjoyed it. That was all that mattered. He drifted off to sleep, feeling good about that, at least. 

  
  
  
  



	43. Chapter 43

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, December 9, 1998 ---- 6:59 a.m.**

Severus didn't sleep well. In fact, when he first woke up, he couldn't remember sleeping at all. But then snatches of dreams drifted through his mind, and he knew he must have. 

Those dreams, though . . . Severus suddenly felt as though the dungeons were chillier than usual. He rubbed his forearms up and down as the fragments of his dreams became clearer memories. Harry, gritting his teeth as Severus made love to him. Harry, turning his face away and grunting, but not with pleasure. 

Of course, Harry hadn't looked like that the night before. Not at all. If he had, Severus might not have been able to continue. Then again, he might have, considering how long he'd desired to sink his cock balls-deep into Harry's sweet arse. 

But no, Harry hadn't gritted his teeth or even looked as though he was wishing himself someplace else. But neither had he looked as though he was enjoying matters a great deal. He hadn't even come, not until afterwards, when Severus had more or less insisted. 

Severus sighed, then was jolted abruptly out of his thoughts as Harry sat up beside him. 

Bit early for the other man to be waking up. "Did you sleep well?" he heard himself ask. The question came out stiffly, probably because Severus had been trying not to sound too solicitous. He didn't want to treat Harry "like a girl," certainly. 

Though it would have been pleasant, he supposed, not to have to hide the fact that he cared. 

"Yeah, fine." Harry blinked a few times, then stretched. 

To Severus' eye, the motion looked a little awkward, like there were parts of Harry that were a bit sore. No surprise there. Severus had been as careful as possible the night before, but it wasn't as though Harry were accustomed to bottoming. 

"Would you like--" 

"No." 

Harry might at least let him finish the question, thought Severus, somewhat annoyed. So be it, then. Severus personally didn't find there was much satisfaction in suffering for the sake of it--not even minor twinges of pain, such as Harry might be experiencing. But then, Severus wasn't a reckless Gryffindor, was he? 

It came to him like a splash of cold water, then, that it was likely a good thing that Harry had that plunge-ahead-without-pausing-to-think attitude. Otherwise, he might never have been willing to bottom for Severus. 

Now Severus was more annoyed than before. How could he not be, when he'd just found himself undeniably _satisfied_ with the fact that his lover was a dratted Gryffindor? 

"You look a lot more grumpy than you should." Harry tilted his face to one side as he stared at Severus. "Something wrong?" 

Severus looked away. No point in mentioning the houses business. Part of him couldn't even believe he was thinking about such things, when other things were so much more important. 

Like the fact that Harry hadn't really liked what they'd done together. "I expect you know exactly what's wrong." 

Harry shrugged. "It'll get better. I mean, for me. It actually wasn't so bad when I pretended it was just frottage going on." 

Oh, wonderful. So Harry _had_ been wishing himself somewhere else, in a manner of speaking. "Your confidence is nauseating." 

"You're really in a bad mood." 

"Of course," said Severus smoothly, turning to meet Harry's eyes again. His tone got nastier as he kept talking. "It's so encouraging to hear you describe in detail how you managed to endure my touch!" 

"I love your touch and you know it," said Harry levelly.   


Severus felt his heart thud painfully at hearing that word, that one word, coming from Harry's lips. 

"It's just, you know, that one _kind_ of touching that isn't my favourite, and if you expected it to be, already, then you need to yank your head out of your arse." 

_It's your arse that concerns me, _Severus almost said, but he decided at the last instant that this conversation had the potential to go badly wrong if he wasn't careful. 

Harry, it seemed, was determined to get them on the right path as well. "It will get better, Severus," he said, running his fingers along Severus' forearm. The contact sent tingles racing through Severus' skin. "It will." 

Severus didn't know how the other man could be so certain, but he thought better than to voice any doubts. Any more doubts, that was. "Yes," he replied after a pause. "I'll see to it." 

Harry shook his head. "Just do what you want,what comes naturally. If I feel like you're straining over it, it'll make me self-conscious, and that won't help. I bet I need to relax, you know? And you, too." 

Severus didn't like the idea of seeing to his own desires, with little regard for his partner. Which wasn't quite what Harry had meant, he knew, but still . . . 

No point in putting more pressure onto Harry, though. "As you wish," said Severus tightly, the irony so palpable that he could practically taste it. A coppery flavour, actually. Or was that coming from the way he was biting the inside of his cheek? 

"Come on. Breakfast, then." 

Harry sounded disgustingly cheery. Severus almost grimaced, but managed a neutral expression instead. He was certain that Harry saw through it, but with that same disgusting cheerfulness, the other man jumped to his feet and announced that he was in the mood for fried bangers. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Friday, December 11, 1998 ---- 8:55 p.m.**

"It's good to be less nervous," said Harry, kicking off his shoes as he leaned back on the settee. "Now that we've done it a few times, I feel really fine about everything. Not that I didn't appreciate the dinner out we just had--" Harry rubbed his stomach. "But you don't need to keep acting like you have to make it up to me, you know. I'm fine. Really." 

Severus didn't smile. He hadn't been aware of doing that, but now, hearing things from Harry's perspective . . . yes, perhaps the other man was right. Severus glanced away, a sense of failure washing over him. He wasn't an ideal partner by any means, but the bedroom had been the one area where he'd been certain he wouldn't be found wanting. It was a bitter potion to swallow, this realisation that all his efforts weren't worth much. 

Severus sighed. He'd always prided himself on being able to satisfy his partner. Even when he was with a prostitute, he made certain that the other man enjoyed the encounter. And Harry mattered to him more than any prostitute ever could, but Harry was the one man Severus couldn't seem to please no matter how he tried. 

It was a bitter potion, indeed. 

Of course, Severus wasn't daft enough to think that Harry was getting no pleasure at all when he and Severus made love. He came readily enough when Severus sucked him off, or fondled his cock and balls afterwards. He just didn't come while he was bottoming, no matter how Severus tried. He generally wasn't even hard enough to get close to climaxing. 

Perhaps it was too much to expect that he could be. That he would. Ever. 

Oblivious to Severus' mood, Harry was rubbing his hands together. "I liked the way my _Incendio_ now is turning my wand into a flamethrower. Well, when I think about _wanting_ that much power. Hmm, though I somehow have the feeling that it's going to take more than fire for me to win the final battle." 

"Doubtless," said Severus. He'd given up trying to guess what their crossed powers might produce next, though whenever they went to the Room of Requirement to test Harry's magic, he found himself thinking that it was a good thing that Harry seemed able to control his spell-casting. One didn't want Incendio to emerge any stronger than one had in mind, certainly. The same went for the myriad of other spells that Harry seemed able to amplify, these days.  


Severus couldn't say he was getting used to the spells of weakness that would wash over him whenever Harry drew power from him, but he did know to expect them.  


"So, let's do it again." 

Severus glanced up. He'd lost track of the conversation, something that seldom happened to him. Or perhaps it was merely Harry's slightly impulsive way of speaking. "Come again?" 

"Let's go have sex," said Harry, nodding like a man more determined than amorous. "I really think I'm getting the hang of it." 

Severus didn't think so, but he didn't want to argue. Not about that. Not again. 

Because really, they didn't have any choice but to keep having sex, did they? Not now that they knew the truth. Harry bottoming for Severus was adding to their crossed powers.  


If only he could learn to enjoy it, really enjoy it . . . 

Severus sighed. He was doing his best, but he was beginning to wonder if that was going to be enough.  


  
  
  
  


**Friday, December 18, 1998 ---- 5:38 p.m.**

"So, that's it then." Harry felt so tired that he wanted to wilt. "The first term, finally over. I never want to see another essay, again. I've never longed for a holiday so much, before." 

Severus sat down beside him. "You must have felt that way as a student, too." 

"Ha. At least then, I only had to write one essay for Defence, not correct hundreds of them. And besides . . ." Harry shook his head, his voice trailing off. 

"Besides?" 

"What do you think?" Harry stiffened as he sat there. "You were usually in the castle during Christmas, I think. Didn't you ever notice that I was here, too? That I wasn't wanted at home? That's what the holidays mean to me." 

"You're wanted at home, now." 

Something about Severus' tone--kind of soft, for him, Harry thought--seemed to reach inside Harry and make him feel better. Strangely, it also made him feel sort of uncomfortable. Probably because Severus couldn't really mean it, not the way it sounded. He'd been strong-armed into invoking, the same as Harry had been, and now they were in it for life, and what was was, but Severus didn't really want him the way that had sounded. "Yeah, I know what you want me for," he joked. 

"I didn't mean that." 

A level tone, that time. So level, in fact, that it made Harry stop and think. If Severus hadn't meant sex, then . . . Well, it wasn't too hard to figure out what he did mean, Harry supposed. He'd sort of known it, already. He did have a home here, now. A real home, with somebody who . . . well, "cared about him" was probably going a little too far. But Severus was willing to be pretty damned decent about the whole slavery thing. And he did like Harry, these days. Some, at least. 

It was more than Harry had ever had at the Dursleys'. Huh . . . more than he'd really ever expected to have, he guessed. Harry shifted uneasily on the couch, wondering if he was really as pathetic as that thought made him out to be.  


"I'm glad Bryerson's gone off to visit his fiancée," he suddenly announced. "Otherwise he might have piled tonnes more work on me. I swear, with him talking about how he's going to have me start planning lessons now and again, I ought to be getting paid more. Oh . . . er . . ." 

"Not going to demand a rise out of the Governors, then?" 

Severus sounded quietly amused, which made Harry feel sheepish, considering his true financial situation. He lounged back on the settee more, in an effort to appear nonchalant. "Dunno. It just struck me that I'm lucky to be getting paid at all. I mean, I do know that it's your money, really. I never forget that. I think I'm afraid to." 

"Not surprising, considering what happened on your birthday," said Severus, crossing his long legs, the motion as suave as Harry's had been awkward. That wasn't what Harry noticed, though. Well, not the only thing. It was how Severus ended up looking afterwards, with his trousers outlining his lean, strong thighs. 

Harry stared, a little surprised to feel his groin stirring in response. He hadn't found Severus' legs attractive before, had he? Hair, yes. Eyes, yes. Voice . . . God, yes. But now, looking at the man's legs made him think of just one thing. 

Cock. 

A large, tasty cock. 

Harry licked his lips, a sudden jolt coursing through his lower body. Not just in his own cock, either. His arse felt sort of . . . hard to pin the feeling down. Almost like it might like to be filled. 

Well, Harry _had_ found the whole fingers business a little satisfying, once. A long time ago, it seemed like. He hadn't thought about it in forever, hadn't even been able to remember it. 

He could remember it now, though. The feeling of being filled down there, and liking it. The stroke of a finger across his prostate . . . 

"I did the best I could, regarding the money." 

"Huh?" Harry glanced up, his face feeling hot as it came to him that he'd probably been staring at Severus' crotch for a while. It didn't seem like Severus had noticed, though. 

"I did the very best I could about the money." 

"Oh. Yeah, I know that." Harry shrugged. "I didn't mean to sound like it bothered me." 

"The spell might take it amiss if you did ask for a rise, but I can broach the matter with Albus if you feel taken advantage of." 

Harry shook his head. "No, no. I'm just pretty sick of doing Bryerson's scut work. He's not nearly as bad as a lot of the Defence teachers we've had here, but when it comes to correcting papers, I don't think he does his fair share." 

Severus shrugged, his lips a straight line. Harry thought he saw a smile lurking somewhere deep in the man's expression, though. In the lines around his eyes, maybe. "What?" 

"Nothing." 

"What? You're thinking something. I can tell." 

Another shrug, but by then, there was definitely a hint of a smile playing about Severus' lips. "Since you ask . . . I was thinking that if I were allowed an assistant, I'd give him as much correcting as he could competently manage. All of it, if possible." 

All of it? Harry shuddered, thinking about the mountains of parchments the Defence students turned in. "Yeah, you probably would, but that's abuse of authority." 

"Nonsense. You're his assistant. You're there to assist him. " 

"I'm _not_ just his assistant. I have a whole nother job--" 

"Nother isn't a word." 

"Ha, ha. Who cares? Everybody says it." Harry stood up, tired of the argument. Really, it wasn't even worth discussing. "I guess Bryerson's not as bad as all that. At least the students are learning loads this year. And if I'm sick of marking all the essays he assigns, at least I get a nice long break, now. So . . . want to join me for a warm bath?" 

"At this hour?" 

"Since when do you complain about getting naked with me?" 

"Ah. _That_ sort of bath." 

"Yeah." Harry cleared his throat as he chanced another glance at Severus' crotch. He might not have gone on, except that when he thought about the cock beneath the fabric, another little zing of something seemed to course through the lower half of his body. "'Cause . . . er, I was thinking that maybe we could try fingers again. In the water . . . well, I have good memories of the bath, you know. And . . ." Damn it, he wasn't shy with Severus any longer, so why could he feel himself colouring? It was ridiculous. "Er . . .with me bottoming for you every night, it seems like I don't need to be stretched as much beforehand, you know? And you haven't been doing that as thoroughly as you were at first." 

"Because you were only tolerating it." 

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up. "Well, now I think I might be able to like it. Maybe a little. I'm feeling . . ." Harry smiled, then. No need to be embarrassed. He could tell Severus things like this. Actually, Severus was the only person he could talk to this way, and not just because the contract would rear its ugly head if Harry went around describing his arse to anyone else. "Is there a word? Kind of, I don't know. It's like being hungry, I guess. Except, in a different place." 

"In your cock?" 

"There, too." 

"Ah." Severus stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes gleaming. "That sounds like good tidings. And yes, a bath might be just the way to begin our holiday." 

_Good tidings . . ._ Harry smiled. He'd been wondering for a while what he could get Severus for Christmas. He'd put off buying a present, mostly because he'd done so spectacularly badly on the last gifts he'd tried to choose for the man. But this . . . this would be a present Severus would definitely like, if Harry could get to the point where he really enjoyed bottoming. If Harry could come while bottoming. 

And somehow, Harry didn't think Severus would mind getting his Christmas present early. Not in this case. 

Harry led the way, opening the taps before he began to shuck off his clothes. Severus' huge tub took an age to fill, even with magic to help the water pour out at a fast rate. 

"Would you prefer slick water or slick fingers?" asked Severus softly, coming up to embrace Harry from behind. 

"Hmm . . . slick water, I think." Like at the invocation . . . though since Severus didn't insist on any Frictionate, it seemed like the water wasn't going to become as slick as all that. 

"As you like." Letting go of Harry, Severus upended a small vial of purplish fluid into the water, which immediately frothed as though he'd added bubble bath. That only lasted a moment, though, and the water went back to its usual appearance. "Shall we?" 

Going back to fingers didn't work out as Harry had hoped, though. Sure, he was able to enjoy it more, as he sat crossways on Severus' lap, angling his arse to give the man's hand good access. That stroke of a fingertip across his prostate made him gasp, now. And it definitely made his cock swell and twitch. Severus nestled it in his hand, squeezing it lightly, encouraging Harry's erection along. 

Harry did get hard, but he didn't come. Not then, in the bath, and not later, either, in bed with Severus, the man's cock gliding smoothly in and out of him, caressing his prostate with every stroke. The sensation of it was maddening, now. Harry got very hard. He got desperate, actually. He _wanted_ to come, and not just mentally any longer. His body wanted it. 

But he couldn't quite get there. 

It was worse than frustrating; it was ridiculous. Severus' hand on him was nothing short of passionate, urging him towards orgasm, and he did know how to excite Harry. He had right from the first, but with all the sex they'd been having lately, he was more skilled at arousing Harry than ever. 

But somehow, with the man's cock riding him--even though Harry kind of liked it, this time--he just couldn't come. 

Not until afterwards, when Severus took Harry into his mouth and finished him. 

It was becoming a pattern, Harry thought, flushed and sated, panting as he lay there. Satisfying in one way, but disappointing in another. He couldn't come while he was bottoming. Not even when he wanted to. 

Perhaps it wasn't going to be such a merry Christmas, after all. 

  
  
  
  



	44. Chapter 44

 

 

 **Thursday, December 24, 1998 ---- 3:44 p.m.**

"I think that's enough for today," said Severus, pushing up from the chair he'd been sitting in since lunch. 

Harry lowered his wand, giving the other man a doubtful look. "But you've had me practicing from noon until five, at least, every other day this holiday. Are you getting more tired than usual, today?" He frowned. "Though I don't think my power has increased any in the last week. If you're knackered even so, maybe something else is going on--" 

"For Merlin's sake," Severus mildly interrupted. "It's Christmas Eve, Harry." 

"Oh, is it?" Harry scratched his head a little. He'd lost track of the days, but that was probably because he never had much liked to think about Christmas. For him, it had usually meant watching the other students walk off, giggling and laughing as they headed toward the train that would take them home. And before that, it had meant watching Dudley greedily devour sweets and cakes even as his grubby hands reached out to rip open presents. Oh, and the word _more_. Dudley always wanted more than he got. Harry never asked for _more_. He knew better. Before the age of five, he'd come to accept that he was never going to get presents he'd much like, and some years, not any presents at all. 

Of course, this year was bound to be different. Harry was sure Severus would get him something. Most likely, something very nice. He'd even wondered, time to time, what it might be. But old habits died hard, and mostly Harry had avoided thinking about this being Yule season. 

"Wish we could have gone away," he said now. Castle holidays had been better than time spent with the Dursleys, but they had also always been a reminder that he didn't have anyone who cared about him. Well, friends. But that wasn't the same. "Paris again, something like that." 

"With the Dark Lord so active? You don't really want to be away from Hogwarts." 

"Well, no, but . . ." Harry bit back his sigh. "Would've been good, that's all." 

"We'll be free to travel widely, once the Dark Lord is vanquished." 

Harry grinned, because that brought out a thought that always improved his mood. "We're going to Florida. Don't forget." 

"I doubt that's possible," said Severus in a sardonic voice. "You remind me of it often enough." 

"Have to have something to look forward to," quipped Harry. Uh-oh. Severus' expression fell a bit, then, like he'd taken that as some kind of insult. Or complaint, maybe. "Look, I just mean-- well, you know. I don't blame you for things not being better. Not that they're bad, exactly. They're just-- maybe I never have liked Christmas that much, all right?" 

"Perhaps this one will be better." 

"'Course it will." Harry meant that, but he was still actually pretty worried that his own gift for Severus would fall flat. 

The best part of Christmas was supposed to be the giving, not the getting; Harry knew that. But growing up as he had, he'd never had much of a chance to experience the joy of giving. Year after year, Harry and Dudley would both offer up the little baubles and trinkets they'd made at school. And without fail, Harry's would be given a cursory glance, only to be tossed in the bin the next day, while Dudley's effort would be fawned over and praised for _hours_ , while Dudley didn't even pay attention, he was so engrossed in his new things, and in demanding even more. 

Severus wasn't such an inconsiderate arse as to reject Harry's gift, of course. His other gifts had turned out less than brilliantly, after all, and Severus had never said a word. Getting Severus a book that the man himself had reviewed in scathing terms, and sweets he found disgusting! But he hadn't tossed them, even so. He'd brought the chocolates to the staff lounge to share, no matter that he'd never done any such thing before, and as for the book, it was still sitting there on his shelves. 

But maybe that was worse. Harry would have to find out from someone else if his latest gift fell just as flat. It was probably good that Severus was trying to have a care for his feelings, Harry thought, but there was such a thing as being too careful. 

Severus took some Floo powder from the mantle. "Why don't we dress for dinner?" 

Well, at least that got his mind off presents. In fact, Harry's lips twitched. "As opposed to dining in the nude? You know, _that_ has some real possibilities. Er . . . as long as, you know, tonight we could go back to doing . . . but no, you like me bottoming best of all, so I guess we'd better keep on with that--" 

"Is it too much to ask for a hint of Christmas spirit?" 

"You're known for that yourself, are you?" 

"This Christmas is going to be different," said Severus firmly. 

Harry nodded, making a conscious effort to more into the right frame of mind. "Are we dressing for dinner because there's a staff party in the Great Hall, something like that?" 

"Perhaps I'd simply like to celebrate the Yule season with you. Properly." 

Something about the look on the other man's face wasn't quite right. Severus was hiding something. Harry wasn't sure what, but there was definitely something. "We're dining alone, though?" he asked, fishing. 

"Why shouldn't we?" 

_Definitely not an answer,_ thought Harry. Well, maybe they were going into Hogsmeade for dinner, to one of the expensive restaurants Severus was acquainted with. Though why Severus wanted to keep it such a secret was a mystery to Harry. On the other hand, he felt . . . well, appreciated, maybe. He hadn't felt that way too many times in his life, and he liked the feeling. 

"I'll dress up then," he said. "Sure. What do you suggest?" 

"A shower." 

Harry looked down at himself. It was true that his powers hadn't really increased much lately. They'd surged right after he'd begun bottoming for Severus, but since then . . . zilch. For all that, though, whenever he spent several hours drawing on their crossed powers, he looked a right mess, afterwards. He was hot and sweaty. 

A table abruptly materialized in front of him, with an electric fan sitting on top. 

Harry choked back a laugh. "I wasn't thinking of _that_. It won't even work here!" 

"Perhaps we've exhausted the room." 

He had a point, there. Early on during the holiday, Severus had suggested that Harry begin to focus on casting spells for which an appreciable increase in power would make a real difference. _Incendio_ , for instance. And _Reducio._

Harry still didn't think his spells were anywhere near strong enough to wound Voldemort, let alone kill him, but they certainly made the Room of Requirement work overtime. Extra stones appeared every time Harry's blasting curse destroyed the ones making up the hearth. And when his _Incendio_ made brick or stone glow red hot and begin to melt, the room provided a localized little snowfall to cool them off. 

_Reducio_ was the worst, though. When Harry made something shrink and shrink and shrink, magnifying glasses would begin to pop up all over the room. And then microscopes, which all by itself should have told him that the room knew things about technology. Well, of course it did. _Harry_ had known those things, first. 

And if Harry made something shrink still further, Harry would begin to hear house-elves congregating outside, their high voices somehow penetrating the wards around the room. _Can Ruddy help you, sir? Can Ruddy be finding something for you, sir?_ they would ask, along with Dobby's plaintive, _Harry Potter is needing Dobby, Mr Harry Potter, sir?_

Harry didn't want all that, but the room was convinced that he did. 

At any rate, he did need a shower. But he'd meant something else. "Should I wear dress robes, or something a bit less formal?" 

After all, _he_ didn't know where Severus was planning to take him. 

"Dress robes will do nicely. It is Christmas Eve, after all." 

_But you want me to dress up because we're going out,_ Harry thought. _Anyone who sees us will just think we're colleagues out for a meal together, but I'll know the truth. You wanted to make my Christmas something special . . ._

"Dress robes it is," said Harry, feeling better about everything. So much better, in fact, that his cock seemed to stretch and yawn, down there. Like it was waking up. Which gave Harry a good idea. "Um, how about, you know, I can bottom for you tonight, but we shower together, now? And let's spell the stall big enough to lie down in. Wet, soapy frottage . . ." He flashed Severus what he hoped was a naughty grin. 

"You're incorrigible." 

"But you like me that way." Another grin. "Better than being so shy I couldn't even say _cock_ out loud. You know, I like the way that feels on my tongue. _Cock. Cock. Big, long cock--_ " 

Severus leaned down slightly, coming so close that Harry could smell the man. "Too much more of that and you'll have more than words on your tongue." 

Harry stepped into the Floo, shaking his head. "Promises, promises." 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, December 24, 1998 ---- 4:18 p.m.**

They'd showered together as Harry had suggested, soaping each other all over and leaning up against the wall furthest from the showerhead, their bodies slick with soap as warm water rained down beside them. In the end, they hadn't managed to spell the stall any larger. No time for that. Harry's cock was too demanding, jutting out with need. He pushed Severus more firmly against the wall and facing him, began thrusting his cock up against Severus' thigh, his hands grasping the other man's shoulders, _rutting_ , really. No other word for it. 

When he came, it was the strongest release he'd had in a while. Couple of weeks, at least. 

Harry sighed with pleasure. He loved frottage. It had felt good. Really good. Too bad they couldn't do _that_ more often, instead of-- 

Harry clamped down on that thought before it could run its course. So what if bottoming wasn't his favourite thing? It's not like he was afraid of it, any longer, or dreading it. He didn't even dislike it, really. 

He just didn't like it very much. He never came, not so long as Severus was inside him. But Severus was a considerate lover who always took care of him afterwards, so things could be worse, right? A lot worse. 

Really, if he had to be a slave, Severus was about as good a master as he could have wished for. 

And wasn't _that_ a surreal thought? 

Harry stretched and stepped back from the other man, who was obviously still hard and aching. "What about you, eh?" He started to drop to his knees, but Severus' hand reached out to grasp his elbow and pull him back to his feet. 

"I think I'll wait." 

"Wait? Why?" Harry laughed, but then it occurred to him that maybe Severus had reservations at that fancy restaurant they'd be going to. "Oh, all right. I guess you don't want us to be late, eh?" 

He shot Severus a look of triumph, wanting him to know that Harry had figured it all out. 

Instead of looking grudgingly amused, however, Severus began scowling slightly. "Those bloody-- so you know, do you?" 

"Well, not _where,_ exactly--" 

"You don't know where what?" 

It wasn't like Severus to be the least bit inarticulate, so that had Harry taking another step back. "Where we're going to dinner," he said, almost sheepishly. What had made him think it would be such a good move to ruin Severus' surprise? By then, he could have kicked himself. "Look, I _don't_ know where, so it's still a surprise, right?" 

"Where would we be going to dinner, Harry?" asked Severus as he pushed off the wall and reached for a towel. All at once, his voice sounded almost sly. Like he was hiding something again, and having a great time of it, as well. "Most establishments in Hogsmeade would be closed for Christmas Eve, and I'd hesitate to go any farther from the castle than that, considering last Sunday's events." 

Yeah, good point. Five attacks on houses all over England, Scotland, and Wales, all carried out at exactly the same time. The Muggle press had called the attacks fire-bombings and had claimed all the owners were away at the time. The Wizarding press knew better. All the houses had been the homes of witches married to Muggle men. With half-blood children. And of those children, at least one was always a son. 

It was like Voldemort was trying to send a message targeted specifically at Severus Snape. 

It had Harry pretty worried, actually. Had Voldemort figured out what was going on? Did he know that Snape was helping Harry train? Did he know about _Cambiare Podentes?_ Had that damned certificate in the Ministry of Magic finally come to someone's attention? Somebody who had connections with Voldemort, who'd know better than to run straight to the press with news like that? 

Or was Voldemort merely reacting to the fact that one of his minions wasn't answering his calls, any longer? 

Either way, Harry definitely didn't want to wander too far afield. Even a trip to London seemed foolish. 

Though he didn't want to go _there_ , anyway. 

"Well, why the dress robes, then?" Harry took the towel Severus was offering, and gave his dripping hair a thorough rub-down. "What's the point?" 

"There has to be a point?" 

"Usually, yeah." Harry tried to peer closely at Severus, but without his glasses he couldn't quite make out the finer nuances in the other man's expression. 

"I'm not allowed to treat Christmas Eve with my lover as a cause for special celebration?" 

"You're apparently not allowed to answer a single question," said Harry dryly. "I know you're up to something. Come on, give. What _is_ it? And why didn't you want a blowjob, if we aren't rushing off because of a reservation?" 

"You'll find out." With that, Severus turned to leave the bathroom, but he slapped Harry lightly on the arse on his way out. 

Harry stood there speechless for a moment, but then went upstairs to hunt up the dress robes Severus had bought him, all those months ago in Strasgard. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, December 24, 1998 ---- 5:29 p.m.**

The robes were a deep, stark black with an edging of emerald green silk. Well, of course they were. Severus had chosen them. 

Of course, Harry had bought plenty of clothes since then. He might have brought home touristy things from every city they'd visited, back when they'd been able to travel, but he'd also picked out things to wear. Nothing formal, though. He didn't know anything about choosing that kind of clothing. And he also didn't think he'd need it. Well, maybe if there were another Yule Ball, at some point. Staff would have to go, right? 

But how often did those come along? Harry didn't know. When he thought about it, a little shiver of something went through him, because he'd just realised that he'd sort of like to dance with Severus, and that wasn't on. Having dinner together was one thing, but dancing in public? The students would have a fit-- 

_Or perhaps not,_ a thought crept into his mind. _The Muggle-born ones, sure, some of them. Not ones like Hermione. The wizard-born ones might even take it in stride, particularly since Severus and I have been seen around together some, by now. Nobody really thinks I hate him now, I don't think . . ._

He didn't even hate the dress robes, Slytherin colours or no, though he still did remember the awful feeling of standing like a doll to be dressed while Severus chose everything. 

Pretty good choice he'd made, though. Really, when Harry looked at himself in the mirror, he saw that the green matched his eyes and the black matched his hair, which was a bit messy at the moment, considering that robes like this called for a man to be well-groomed. 

Grabbing his wand, Harry started spelling his hair to stay down. Those sorts of spells used to be absolutely worthless, but he'd discovered a couple of weeks ago that if he cast them using just a tiny touch of crossed powers, they worked well enough. 

A moment after he was done, Severus appeared in the mirror behind him, an odd look on his face. "Your hair, again?" 

Oh, right. He always knew when Harry was accessing their crossed powers, always. That twinge of weakness, sometimes enough to make him stumble a bit, other times enough to make him want to sit down, depending on what Harry was doing, told him every time. 

Part of being a slave, Harry supposed. He wasn't supposed to lie to Severus, and he certainly wasn't supposed to sneak around siphoning off magical power from Severus without his knowledge. Harry was used to that, by now. He might not have been, if Severus had turned out to be a domineering horse's arse, but as things stood, Harry could handle the other man knowing when Harry was dipping into the well of their crossed powers. 

"Yeah," Harry finally answered, his voice a little rough. Trying to leave thoughts of death and destruction behind, he turned around to take a good look at the other man. Severus' dress robes were as black as Harry's, but made out of some fabric that looked smoother. Shinier. And they were edged in a very muted grey, which somehow made the man's hair look sleeker--and more black--than usual. "You look good," Harry admitted, his voice still rasping, although for a different reason, now. Severus looked more than good. Which was strange, because at the same time, Harry could tell that the other man wasn't what you'd call handsome. But he was . . . _compelling_ -looking, and that somehow seemed to make him a lot more attractive than mere handsomeness ever could. 

Moving closer, Harry put his arms up, wrapping them around the back of Severus' neck, and drew his head down to whisper against his lips. "Look at us both, all dressed up with nowhere to go. I think I'd rather celebrate the season with fewer clothes on--" 

"You're not satisfied? After that shower?" 

Their lips met, Harry doing the kissing. "Of course I'm not. _You_ didn't come, and if I've learned anything from you, it's that a man isn't truly satisfied until his lover feels the same--" 

An irritating noise interrupted him. A demanding noise. Like someone knocking . . . no, _banging_ , on a door. But the noise was faint, so it had to be coming from the dungeons. 

Severus quickly unwound himself from Harry's embrace. "Perhaps I should answer that." 

"Who could it be, anyway?" asked Harry, hands smoothing down his hair. Habit, of course. It was still stuck firmly to his scalp, but Harry was used to fixing his hair all the time. Or trying to, anyway. "Albus would floo in if something awful had happened, and I never heard of a house elf knocking--" 

Severus' eyes gleamed a little as he drawled, "If I answer it, I dare say I'll know who it is." 

"Fine, whatever." By then, Harry felt annoyed that their evening had been interrupted. "You answer it and get rid of whoever, and then we'll pick up where we left off--" 

"Yes, by all means. I'll tell _whom_ ever to . . . what, exactly, would you like me to say?" 

He didn't have to sound so amused about everything, Harry thought. So Harry was a young man who liked sex a lot? Not a reason to make fun of him. Then again, knowing Severus, he was probably just delighted and this was his way of showing it. "Get lost," said Harry, deciding he might as well laugh, too. "Yeah, tell _whom_ ever to get good and lost. Unless it's Albus, in which case you can say that we know he's not a voyeur, so he won't be wanting to stick around, will he--" 

Severus actually laughed out loud. "I think I'll do just that." 

"Sure you will." 

"Oh, I will. Believe me." 

Severus strode away, his robes billowing as he walked through the magic doorway that would whisk him downstairs, but Harry wasn't worried about what he'd say. It was probably just some teacher or other at the door, there to ask Severus if he'd brew a special potion, something like that. The quickest way to get back to Harry would be to agree, so Severus would, simple as that. 

Only, it wasn't another teacher at all. 

The knocking sound stopped abruptly, a voice replacing it. Hermione's voice. "You're looking rather festive this evening, Professor Snape." 

"Why thank you, Miss Granger," Severus answered. "Harry just asked me to give you a message. He says that you're both to--" 

Before even half of that was said out loud, Harry was _careening_ through the connecting doorway and running as fast as he could to reach the front door of Severus' quarters. He actually skidded to a halt, almost colliding into Severus, who was standing opposite Ron and Hermione both. Harry arrived just in time to hear the end of Severus' sentence. 

" . . . wait just a moment and he'll be down." 

"I did not!" exclaimed Harry, only to realise a second later that Severus _hadn't_ told them to get out, after all. A second after that, everything was clear to him. Of course Severus hadn't told Ron and Hermione that. He'd obviously invited them over. So _that_ was what he'd been hiding earlier, the source of his secret amusement when Harry had been annoyed at their arrival! 

For a few seconds, Harry was shocked simply speechless. Severus had invited Ron and Hermione to dinner? Severus _Snape?_

Sure, he hadn't objected when Harry's friends had visited, and he hadn't acted particularly upset about Harry being close to Hermione, lately, but that was probably just because the contract was so specific. Severus didn't like Harry telling people about their sex life, and Harry _couldn't,_ now. 

Besides, Severus knew perfectly well now that Harry had never been interested in Hermione. Not that way. So perhaps he'd realised he had no reason for jealousy-- 

Harry's thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt when he heard himself thinking that word. _Jealousy?_ Was that why Severus had been so ill-tempered, so completely unreasonable, telling Harry not to even speak to Hermione, that time? 

_No, no,_ couldn't be, he thought. To be jealous you had to be in . . . er, no. Not going there. Maybe to be jealous you just had to be in _volved_. That much he could believe. And of course, now that he knew how much Severus had wanted him, even back then, Harry could believe there'd been an element of pure sexual jealousy in his attitude. So yes, perhaps _jealousy_ wasn't going too far, after all. 

But now he wasn't jealous any longer, and he'd invited Ron and Hermione over for Christmas Eve dinner. 

"You didn't say for us to wait?" asked Ron, raising an eyebrow as he went back to the confusing way Harry had greeted them both. 

"Oh, of course he didn't," said Hermione in a slightly superior tone. "Harry didn't even know we were coming, right? Surprise!" 

"Surprise!" echoed Ron, a half-second later. 

"I'm surprised, all right," murmured Harry, flicking a glance in Severus' direction. "Didn't have a single clue." 

"Is that why you look a bit white?" 

"Er, yes," Harry answered Ron, latching onto the explanation. Grateful for it, really. "You could have knocked me over with a feather. I thought it was somebody else knocking, you see." 

"Bothersome students are always asking me for help in potions," said Severus in a deep, smooth voice as he ushered their guests in. "Harry had told me in no uncertain terms to tell whomever was at the door to 'get lost,' I believe the phrase was. He apparently thought I was going to do just that. I can't imagine why, of course . . ." 

Ron looked gobsmacked. As well he should, since Severus had just more-or-less admitted that he'd given into an urge to tease Harry. The Severus _he_ knew wouldn't ever have engaged in such playful behaviour. 

Right then and there, Harry knew that his friends were there so they could see how well Harry and Severus got on, these days. So they could see Harry and Severus together. As . . . 

A couple. 

He almost gulped, even though Ron and Hermione already knew everything. Well, most everything. His letters to them had gotten cheerier lately, though of course he couldn't really tell them anything of an intimate nature. Not that he'd have written things like that down, anyway. 

Hermione began frowning. "Harry, you didn't. You wanted him to tell a student in need to get lost?" 

Easy for her to ask that, Harry thought. _She'd_ never had to deal with the constant demands of hundreds of students. Not that they usually had the nerve to bother Severus outside of his office or classroom, but still . . . it was the principle that mattered. "It's Christmas Eve," he said, shrugging. And then, thinking that he should really let them know that things were going very well, after all their help, and the way they'd worried with him, he added, "Even teachers are entitled to a personal life, you know. Sometimes we want to be alone." 

Ron's cheeks went a shade more pink than usual. "You wanted to be alone, eh, tonight, then--" 

"Well, I didn't know you'd been invited," said Harry, reasonably. "I thought it was Christmas Eve for the two of us, and I didn't want a student barging in, demanding to know the difference between lacewings and faery wings. But I'm very happy to see the two of you. I've been wondering for hours why Severus suggested dress robes." 

"Seems a bit fancy for dinner for four," said Ron, grumbling a little. 

"Oh, hush, Ron. It's Christmas Eve." 

"My sentiments exactly, Miss Granger," said Snape. 

For some reason, that made her cheeks go pink, too. "Hermione, I think. We're all adults, now. And friends." 

Ron looked uncertain about that last part, but then he nodded, looking like a man who was bracing himself for a put-down. 

Severus didn't offer any. "Severus, then," he merely said. "Please do have a seat. Would you like something to drink?" 

"Let Severus pick a wine," Harry advised, almost dropping into a chair. On second thought, he decided to sit on the settee. "He knows some really good ones. Though I guess maybe I'm not the best judge of what's good, since it seems all the ones I like most are supposed to be dessert wines." 

Severus smiled, but not in any way that Ron or Hermione would notice. The whole effect was very subtle. Just a slight wrinkling of the skin around his eyes, really. Harry wondered when he'd got quite so good at reading Severus' moods. 

"I'd like a firewhiskey," Ron announced. 

"If you wish, though you won't be able to taste your food, afterwards." 

"Oh. Wine, then, I guess," Ron said. He'd sat down, but he still hadn't really looked directly at Severus, Harry noticed. Once, Harry would have assumed that meant that Ron was upset about Harry and Severus being lovers. Now, Harry could see what the real problem was. Ron wasn't all that fond of Snape, and while he was willing to be social for Harry's sake, he had no idea at all what to say to the man. That probably explained the demand for such a strong drink, come to think of it. 

"So what are we having?" asked Ron, flailing his arms a little, like he'd had trouble even coming up with the question. 

"No idea. I didn't plan this party. Severus?" 

The other man bent down and picked up the tray that had appeared on a low table by the Floo, then turned around. "Roast goose with all the trimmings, and Christmas cake for dessert. So I thought a _Pinot Noir_ , one from Burgundy, would be the ideal wine with dinner. For now, though, perhaps a small glass of champagne so we can have a toast." 

Harry had a bizarre urge to ask if toast really went with goose, but somehow managed to quell it. He wasn't sure what was making him want to behave in such an immature manner. Or maybe he was. With Ron and Hermione here, it sort of felt like student days again, and as students, they'd never be having dinner with Snape. 

_Severus,_ he mentally corrected himself, wishing he could give himself a kick for good measure. 

"Toast sounds good--" Harry cleared his throat and started over. "A toast, I mean." 

God, he was going to end up as nervous as Ron if this kept up. And there he'd been trying so hard to show them that he _wasn't_ nervous, that he was perfectly at ease with Severus. That things really were fine. That wasn't just something he wrote in his letters to make the two of them feel better; it was true. 

That was why he'd sat on the settee. So Severus could sit next to him, and they'd look like . . . well, not like a couple, exactly. But not like adversaries at all, either. 

Severus opened the champagne with a soft spell, and poured sparkling amber liquid into the slender flutes on the tray. Then he did sit down next to Harry, just as if he'd understood Harry's unspoken message. "So then," he said, passing round the glasses and lifting his own, "to a Merry Christmas for all." 

Hermione glanced quickly at Harry. "To harmony." 

Ron's whole hand was wrapped around the stem of his flute, and he lifted it so abruptly that the champagne almost sloshed out. "To . . . er, to the Cannons going all the way to the finals." 

Hermione made an impatient noise and rolled her eyes. 

Harry, though, understood why Ron hadn't said anything more profound that that. Of course he understood. He used to feel just the same way around Severus. When you believed, really believed, that anything you said was going to be thought stupid, it made you say things that pretty much were. "To the Cannons," Harry echoed, nodding, clinking his glass with each of them. 

The champagne was fruity and bubbly, and long before the alcohol could begin to affect him, Harry felt himself relaxing. How could he not? He'd felt like he was drinking happiness. Ron and Hermione, here with him, and Severus arranging it all? That was probably the best Christmas present he could have imagined. 

They started talking about this and that, but the conversation soon split into two camps, with Hermione facing Severus and asking him detailed questions about how runes could affect potions, while Ron wanted to talk with Harry about Gryffindor's chances at the House Cup, and what it was like to live in the castle as a staff member, and such. 

The more champagne Harry drank, the more relaxed and happy he felt. His brief nervousness had washed completely out of him, by then. It had just been the strangeness of the situation, he supposed. Severus was such a loner that he never invited people in. 

But this, now . . . this was . . . well, _touching_ was the only word Harry could think of, for it. Severus had said, even before the invocation, that he'd known Harry had social needs. That he would meet all of Harry's needs. And that's exactly what he was doing. 

It made Harry wish they were alone so he could thank Severus properly. 

But that could wait. In the meantime, Harry picked up the champagne bottle and poured himself and Ron another full glass. It was a bit flat by then, but that didn't matter. He was still drinking happiness. 

Ron drank half his glass, then said in a very low voice, "He doesn't mind?" 

Harry blinked, his mind feeling a little bit mushy. "Mind? Er, he's the one who invited you, you know--" 

An even lower voice. "No, mind you making yourself at home like that." 

Oh. Yeah, Ron and Hermione had only ever visited Harry in the upstairs rooms, so they had no way to really understand how it all worked. "This is my home," he said, waving a hand to indicate all of it. A few drops of champagne spilled over the top of his glass. "I live here, down here, don't you know . . . the upstairs rooms are kind of like a big closet where I keep stuff. Oh, and like an office for me, if I need to be alone so I can get things done." Suddenly, he was tired of dancing around issues with them. So what if the contract said he couldn't discuss intimacies? There were ways around it, just like there were ways around the mind bond. "And I think you know I don't sleep up there. I always sleep with Severus." 

Hermione turned her face to look at him, her eyes glowing a warm colour. 

Only then did Harry realised that he'd raised his voice a bit, there near the end. 

"I think your friends are aware," murmured Severus, looking a bit . . . well, not stunned. More like he didn't know what to think. "Ah. Is that the dinner bell I hear?" 

It wasn't, of course. The elves didn't do things like ring bells to announce meals. Now Hermione's eyebrows were going up, up, up, until her fringe completely hid them. Oh, right. She didn't know. 

"Severus had a Muggle father," he explained as he pushed up from the settee. More of a lurch, really. _Whoa_. That champagne must have been stronger than he'd thought. Well, it was good to have a party with Severus and his friends, both. "So he knows more than you might think about Muggle things." 

Harry could tell that Hermione very much wanted to dive into that subject, but one hard glance from Severus silenced her questions. Just in case things got tense, though, Harry drank a couple more glasses of wine straight away. That way, he might not notice as much. Or let it bother him. 

Besides, the _Pinot Noir_ was pretty tasty stuff. 

In fact, the whole meal was excellent. Harry might not have noticed that, if not for the raptures that kept passing over Ron's face. "Mmm, ah," he said after a particularly succulent bite of goose. "I'd forgotten how good elf cooking is. You don't know how lucky you are, mate--" 

He abruptly stopped, a dull red flush spreading upwards from his neck. 

Harry had enough alcohol in him by then to let very little disturb him. Certainly not that. "Yes, I am lucky," he said, picking up his glass and drinking again. "I mean, no secrets among friends, right? For a _Podentes_ enslavement, things aren't too bad. Wait, that came out wrong. I meant, things aren't bad here, right? You can see that. It's just like . . . normal life." 

Hermione began worrying her lips with her teeth. "I'm glad you seem happy, Harry, but . . . " 

She didn't say the rest, but she didn't have to. Harry knew. 

"But it's not really normal? Yeah, I know what you mean." Harry leaned close, his sleeve dragging through the gravy on his plate. But it didn't matter; he was more concerned with making Hermione understand. "You know what, though? It's more normal than anything I ever had before. You think getting a toothpick for Christmas is normal, Hermione? Or being locked in without enough food, and bars over the windows? This deal, the conditions of it, that _précis_ . . . well, it all might sound awfully strange to someone else. But Severus and I know how to make it work. And it works pretty damned well." 

"Good, good," said Hermione, leaning back in her chair as though to assure Harry she'd accepted what he'd said. 

"So let's have another round to celebrate! It's Christmas Eve!" Drawing out his wand, Harry tapped the table and asked for Frangelico. That would go well enough with . . . er, he couldn't remember. Whatever the dessert plan was. 

Severus' wand was out as well. He cast a quick cleaning charm over Harry's sleeve, then said in a low voice, "Perhaps you've had enough?" 

Harry didn't bother lowering his voice. "No, the night's young!" 

Ron made a gruff noise in the back of his throat. "Er, mate . . . I saw you laid pretty low in hospital, you know. If Severus thinks you ought to quit now, then . . . er, maybe you ought, you know? He is your . . . well, you know." 

"Yeah, but he doesn't boss me around like that. Well, not much." Harry peered at his friends. " _He_ thinks I'm an adult. Able to make my own decisions. Well, except for running off or something, but I don't want to do that any longer. Let's toast to that!" 

Severus gave a little sigh, but raised his glass. Ron and Hermione followed suit, after only a moment's more hesitation. "To being an adult!" Harry cried. 

"To responsible drinking." That was Hermione. Prat. 

"To . . . er, the Cannons, again." 

"To hangover potions," said Severus in a very dry voice. 

Ha. Harry could do him one better than that. Before anyone had a chance to clink glasses, he grinned widely and said, "To fucking over _Podentes!_ " 

"Harry!" That was Hermione gasping, but not over his language. "Is it wise to challenge the contract like that?" 

"Wise, schmize." Harry laughed. "Won't matter unless Severus disapproves--" 

"Yes, well I disapprove. Don't say anything like that, ever again." 

Harry turned to look at Severus, who had gone a little bit white. Oh. Maybe that had been a foolish thing to say. He'd just wanted his friends to understand that between him and Severus, it wasn't _Podentes_ that controlled everything. They really had a relationship. Harry was a slave, but he wasn't living like one, and wouldn't ever. 

"Er . . . sorry," he said, putting down his glass. Meaningless gesture; he'd already drained it. "I won't say that again." 

Severus tapped the table to make a Christmas cake appear. A wizarding Christmas cake. Instead of little figures of Father Christmas in his sleigh atop it, there was a tall, elegant figure of Merlin, tapping little boxes with his wand. They wrapped themselves in gaily coloured papers and tied themselves with ribbon, at his command. 

"Oh, how charming," said Hermione. 

"That?" Ron gave a little shrug. "We have one of those ever year. Every bakery in Diagon Alley churns them out, this time of year." 

"Well, some of us haven't had a wizarding Christmas cake before," retorted Hermione. 

"Like me," added Harry. 

Hermione looked scandalised. "Not once in all those years you stayed at Hogwarts?" 

"It's a tradition reserved for family dinners," said Severus quietly. 

Hermione went silent, in that way she had when she was falling into thought. 

Ron blundered ahead, as usual. "Family?" 

"I don't know what else you can call it. Let's speak plainly, shall we? Harry may be my slave, but he's also bonded to me. For life. And you two are the only real family he's had since James and Lily." 

"Yes, exactly. That's right, we _are_ ," said Hermione emphatically. "So I suppose we'll be seeing much more of you in the future, Prof-- er, Severus." 

"Yes, I suppose." 

Severus made that sound a bit put-upon, but Harry didn't think he really meant it. Well, not in a bad way, at least. Actually, the whole thing made him want to kiss Severus. 

The only thing was, Harry wasn't sure he would stay awake through it. It was all he could do not to stretch and yawn. 

"I'd planned to end the evening with the traditional posset," said Severus, standing up, "but I think we'll have to leave that for another time." 

Hermione took the hint at once, and stood up as well. "It's been a lovely evening, Severus. Thank you so much for inviting us. I'll have to return the favour and have both of you over to dinner, sometime soon." 

"That will have to wait until the Dark Lord no longer poses a threat." 

"Oh yes, of course. I understand." 

Severus took Hermione's arm and walking her from the room, spoke in a lower voice. Harry stumbled a little as he got up to follow so he could hear what was going on. 

"Did you take my advice about moving and protecting all knowledge of your new abode?" 

"Oh, yes. It's well warded now. Thank you." 

Severus' nostrils flared. "You're a target twice over, Hermione. A Muggle-born, and also Harry Potter's friend. And _him_ , a blood traitor, also Harry's friend, living with a Muggle-born? I think either one of you would be quite a prize for the Dark Lord, so keep to the precautions I outlined." 

"Yes, Professor, we will. Oh! I mean, Severus." 

"Yes, thank you," echoed Ron, who obviously knew about these precautions. "The Burrow's been warded too, just as you suggested. And our flat, yes. Nothing's foolproof in this day and age but . . . thank you, yes." 

With that, they were telling Harry good-night. Hermione kissed him on the cheek; Ron slapped him on the back. And then they were gone. 

Harry flopped onto his back on the settee and kicked off his shoes. "Wow. That was some dinner. I'm stuffed. And you, the sly one, asking them over without telling me." 

"I wanted to see the look on your face." 

"Yeah, well I bet it was a good one." Yawning, Harry rolled over onto his side and dragged a cushion under his head. "Mmm. Comfy here. But thanks for the Christmas present, Severus. That was the best one ever, the best I ever got, the . . ." A long yawn finished out his statement. 

"I do actually have another for you. I'd planned to give it to you tonight." 

Harry was so tired he could barely sit up, but he managed to sort of push into a half-sitting position. "Eh, another present? Tonight? Tomorrow's Christmas, y'know." 

"Yes, I know," said Snape dryly. "You're in no shape for it tonight, anyway. Pity. Well, let's get your teeth brushed and get you to bed." 

"Mmmm. Bed." 

Severus started to pull him off the settee, but Harry brushed his hands away. "I can do it. I'm not drunk, you know. I'm just--" 

"Potted." 

" _Relaxed_ ," laughed Harry. 

So relaxed, in fact, that he almost fell asleep over the sink. He made it to bed all right, though, and snuggled up against Severus. "Is it past midnight?" 

"No." Severus reached to the side. "Drink this, and then go to sleep." 

"I already brushed my teeth." 

"Fine. Have a pounding headache Christmas morning, then." 

Harry took the vial and downed it. "Tastes like liquid rock." 

"And to think, I made a special effort to mute the flavour, just for you." 

Harry handed the vial back and settled back down. "Did you really?" 

"No, of course not. I didn't know you'd get drunk at our party." 

"I'm _not_ drunk." 

"Of course not," said Severus again, his voice that time soothing. "Harry, let's just get some sleep. And tomorrow, you'll enjoy your Christmas. I promise." 

_No, no, he can't promise,_ Harry thought, the words running slowly through him, like treacle. _He's not supposed to promise, except he does. A lot, though not usually like that, in those words . . ._

"'Night, Severus," whispered Harry, moving closer and throwing a leg over the other man. Within seconds, he was fast asleep. 

  
  
  
  



	45. Chapter 45

 

 

 **Friday, December 25, 1998 ---- 10:05 a.m.**

Harry rolled over in bed. Again. 

Severus quietly cast _Tempus_ , his lips quirking when he saw the time. At this rate, Harry would miss Christmas entirely. Besides, Severus had been in this chair for over an hour, watching Harry sleep. He couldn't wait any longer. 

Severus went over to sit on the edge of the bed instead, his hand on Harry's shoulder to shake him awake. "Come on, time to get up. You want your presents, don't you?" 

Harry mumbled something unintelligible, but it didn't sound very excited. But then, he wasn't properly awake yet. He was still halfway locked in dreams. And of course, most of his memories of Christmases past were bad memories. Or at least, they weren't happy ones. 

Enough of this, Severus decided, raising his wand again. He cast a very mild tickling charm _,_ smiling a little as Harry began to twitch and rock in his sleep. 

He woke up laughing, finally, and Severus cancelled the spell. "Feeling all right, are you?" 

"A bit itchy." 

"That'll fade in a moment. I meant, no sign of hangover?" 

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Please. I didn't drink that much. Anyway, are you always like this on Christmas? Waking people up with tickling spells?" 

_Only with you_ , thought Severus. He didn't have to answer, though, because Harry had gone on to another thought. "Did you say something about presents?" 

"Oh, there might be one or two waiting for you." 

"Yeah, well, this time let's be sure that _you_ give them to me before I open them." 

A wise precaution, though Severus regretted the necessity. 

"And of course, there are some other things for you. From me." 

Harry grinned. "Sounds great. I promise I won't ask for _more_." 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"Nothing, nothing." Harry sat up in bed, shaking himself all over rather like a dog after a bath. His hair flew out in every direction. Severus reached out a smooth it down, a little bit perturbed at the utterly . . . _tender_ feeling that stole over him as he carded his fingers through the black, unruly strands. 

"Hey, didn't I go to bed in my clothes?" 

And Harry had the nerve to claim he hadn't been drunk. Well, best not to argue and ruin their Christmas morning. Their first, together. 

"You didn't look comfortable, so after you were sound asleep, I spelled them off." _And freshened your breath_ , he didn't add. 

"Oh. Thanks. I guess maybe I was a little out of it." 

Naked, Harry padded over to the bathroom. Severus heard the shower running, and almost joined him in it, but he knew how that might end up. One thing would lead to another and before it was all over, Harry would be on his knees, giving Severus a long, luscious blowjob. And Severus didn't want to spend himself that way. 

Not today. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday, December 25, 1998 ---- 10:22 a.m.**

There was a light breakfast laid out for them on the low table near the settee. Harry made short work of his portion, all the while trying his best not to stare at the hearth where several dozen presents were piled up. A lot of them had his name visible, so he supposed they were for him, but he still couldn't really believe it. "Are those all for me?" he finally asked. 

Severus nodded as he put down his teacup. 

Harry began chewing his lip. "I don't know what's going on. I never got that many, before." 

"It seems to me that you're more popular with the students than you realised." Severus' eyes gleamed. "Either that, or some of the Quidditch players are currying favour, hoping you'll retract your decision to hold practises before classes rather than in the evening hours." 

"Oh, a lot of these are from students?" 

The look on Severus' face said that he'd just mentioned as much. 

Harry still felt floored. "Should I keep them? I mean, is there some kind of protocol for that, or . . . um . . . oh." 

"Yes, I never have had much cause to wonder if I should keep mountains of gifts from students." 

"You must have got the occasional one, I'm sure. Slytherins being . . . well, Slytherins." 

"You're implying that my snakes would need an ulterior motive to give me anything?" 

Harry was taken aback by that, but only for a moment. "Well, you just implied the same about my Quidditch players." 

"You can see the depth of my faith in student sincerity." Severus summoned a bright blue gift from the pile and handed it to Harry. "Hogwarts hasn't any rule against your keeping such presents. And you're hardly in a position to be compromised, as you don't issue final marks in any subject." 

"Ha, just you wait. Bryerson'll have me doing that, too, before long." Harry's forehead wrinkled. "I'm not surprised that anything addressed to me came to you, but shouldn't these have ended up at the head table? Oh . . . redirecting spell?" 

"Applied before the holidays, as a precaution." Severus shrugged. "I don't get many presents. I'm known for preferring it that way, so for so many to land at my place over the past few days would have aroused some discussion among the others on staff." 

"Past few days?" Harry blinked. "You've been collecting them somewhere?" 

"Hiding them, yes." 

"I wouldn't have opened them early, or anything." 

Severus' voice went silky. "But you like getting them all at once like this, don't you?" 

Harry couldn't deny it; he did. He couldn't help it. He saw that big pile of presents and something inside him smiled widely, thinking, _See? You're worth recognising too, on Christmas._

But there was a fine line between feeling like he was worth something, and actual greediness, so Harry tried to step away from the whole topic. "Er . . . what was that about you not liking presents?" He shook his head. "Sorry about the ones I got you during the summer hols. I mean, that was probably just about the worst book I could have chosen for you." 

"No, there are definitely worse." 

"But you'd rather I didn't get you anything, is that what you were getting at?" 

Severus stepped toward him and looked into his eyes. "I assure you, Harry, that I have no trouble speaking to you in direct terms. You needn't look for hidden meanings, not with me. And I'm sure I'll enjoy any gift you think to give me." 

"Like you enjoyed that book?" 

"Well, perhaps I enjoyed laughing at it, hmm?" 

"Wonderful." 

Severus clicked his teeth. "Why don't you rip apart those wrappings and see what you've got there?" 

Harry would rather have opened something from Severus himself, but he thought it would sound rather demanding to say as much, so he dealt with the gift from Harriett Diggsworthy as quickly as possible. A Ravenclaw fourth-year, she was on her house's Quidditch team, but thankfully, the card attached to the gift didn't say anything about evening practises or the like. Actually, it mentioned that she was enjoying Defence. That was all right, though it sounded to Harry like she had a bit of a crush on him. _Uh-oh._

"I don't believe it," said Harry weakly when he'd torn apart the wrappings. "She doesn't think I might already have a broomstick repair kit? Me, the Quidditch coach? With the way the students treat their brooms, I have to buy kits by the dozen!" 

"Hogwarts should be purchasing them if that's the case." 

"Oh, they are." Harry shrugged. "I guess maybe she thought I might need one just for myself. Though anybody who's been flying as long as I have would already have a personal kit." 

"Perhaps you're difficult to buy for," said Severus in a meaningful tone. 

Harry set the repair kit aside. "Oh. Do you really think so? Did you have trouble?" 

"No, but I know you better than does Miss Diggsworthy. She knows little more than your reputation." 

_So what did you get me?_ Harry wanted to ask. He couldn't, though. Not after he'd heard Dudley ask that so many times. 

"Your turn," he said instead. "I'll pop upstairs to get it." 

"You wouldn't rather deal with this lot, first?" When Harry hesitated, Severus eyes acquired a kind look. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying your Christmas, Harry." 

"Right. By giving instead of getting, so I'm going to go and get your present, now." Harry tried not to look as nervous as he felt. The present he'd finally got for Severus was either going to be a great success or a total dud. He just wasn't sure which. 

The box he got out of the wardrobe and took downstairs was wrapped in green paper with a black ribbon, so Severus would like the colours if nothing else. 

Harry thrust the package out at Severus. "I hope you like it. Er . . . I meant, Merry Christmas." 

"And to you," murmured Severus as he neatly removed ribbon and wrappings. When he opened the box, though, his forehead wrinkled. "Ah . . . did you by chance forget something, Harry?" 

This, Harry had to admit, was the fun part. "No, no, I put it in there. Maybe you should look a little harder." 

"I don't see anything . . ." Severus peered into the box, and finally thrust a hand inside. His expression changed as he pulled something out. Something invisible. One eyebrow raised, he began to run his hands over the surface of the item. 

Harry knew the exact moment when Severus realised exactly what it was that he held. His eyes began to gleam, even as his hands shifted to cradle the object more carefully. 

"A transparent cauldron, eh? You got me a transparent cauldron?" 

Harry beamed. By then, he could tell that he'd done all right. "No Potions master should be without one, I thought." 

"But how did you . . ." Severus cleared his throat. "I've read of these, of course, but they're still in the testing stage. I'd heard they might go on sale sometime during the New Year. Brewers all over Europe are clamouring for one, but they're still impossible to get. So how did you . . ." 

Harry flushed. "Oh. Well, I don't usually do this, you know. I don't like to do it, but for this . . ." He lifted his shoulders a little. "I told them they could use my name." 

"First customer?" 

Harry winced. "Yeah. In the adverts. It was the only way to get you one for Christmas. And I couldn't think of anything else to give you at all. But I did think you'd really love this. You're supposed to be able to fine-tune your brews 'cause you can see the colour all the way down, instead of just on top, and you know how glass cauldrons crack? That's pewter made invisible so it's guaranteed not to, and they _swear_ that the invisibility spells won't interfere with any potions except a couple of rarely-brewed varieties--" 

The way Severus was looking at him made Harry realise he was babbling. Well, Severus probably knew all this. If he'd wanted a transparent cauldron already, he'd have looked into the matter. 

"Well, glad you like it," Harry finished, smiling because Severus was still running his hands all over the invisible surface, the motions almost lover-like. Actually, seeing that made Harry's cock twitch a little. _It_ wanted all those attentive caresses. Well, he was sure he'd get some later. When he bottomed for Severus again. 

Harry tried to look forward to it, but really, his mood was more one of resignation. It was all right. He could do it. 

"I more than 'like' it," said Severus, smiling a little more broadly. "I can't think of a better present." 

Harry could. He'd _wanted_ Severus' real Christmas present to be Harry climaxing _while_ he was bottoming. Severus would really like that, Harry was sure. He'd love it, in fact. And he'd be fully satisfied, finally. And their powers would cross completely. 

_That_ was what Harry had wanted to get Severus for Christmas. A much better present than a cauldron could ever be. Even the world's most amazing cauldron. 

But Harry had given up on _that_ present. It just wasn't going to happen. 

"I really do appreciate the cauldron," said Severus, sounding earnest. Oh. Harry had probably been letting his disappointment with the other thing show, and Severus had misunderstood. "Especially considering what you had to do to obtain one." 

Setting the cauldron carefully aside, Severus leaned down to kiss Harry softly on the lips, then pulled away slightly to whisper, "I'm almost inclined to say that I'll be brewing so much now that you'll seldom see me, but that wouldn't be true. You're more tempting than any cauldron could ever be." 

Wow. From Severus, that almost qualified as . . . sweet nothings, or something. Harry wasn't sure what to say in return. 

"Thanks," he said, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Um . . . so, do you have some other ones to open? From Albus, or . . .?" 

"He always gets me a subscription to a rare wines of the world programme." 

Harry nodded. "All right. So should I . . ." 

"By all means. I can't imagine why you're so reluctant." 

Harry shrugged, unwilling to think about Christmases past any further. He should just try to enjoy this one. 

That became _less_ likely, though, when he began to plough through the presents. Really, Severus was right when he said that most students had very little imagination. How many self-inking quills and writing tablets did one person need, not to mention knick-knacks featuring Snitches? 

And where was his present from Severus, eh? That was what Harry wanted to know. He was sure the other man's gift would be a more imaginative one than he'd seen so far. 

And it was, but not in the way Harry thought at first. 

"Oh, here it is!" said Harry brightly when he reached the bottom of the pile. Written across the ribbon was a simple note, _From Severus. Use liberally._

Clearly, the paper was wrapped around a bottle of some sort. A potion? To use liberally? 

Curious, Harry unwrapped it. It turned out not to be a homemade potion at all, but something that had been purchased. When Harry turned it around far enough to read the label though, his heart sank into his toes. 

_For the discriminating wizard: Happy Bottoming Lubricant and Salve, scented with green apple and raspberry, guaranteed to enhance his pleasure._

Lubricant? Severus had given Harry _lubricant?_ For _Christmas?_

He didn't know whether to throw it to the stone floor in anger, or shout first and do that afterwards. Harry had heard of some selfish gifts, like the time Uncle Vernon had given Aunt Petunia a new vacuum for her birthday, but this took the cake. _Guaranteed to enhance his pleasure,_ ha. Guaranteed to enhance _Severus'_ pleasure, that was what _that_ meant! And since when was a present supposed to be all about what the giver would like, instead of what the recipient might prefer? 

But of course with _Cambiare Podentes_ , what Severus wanted was all that mattered, Harry thought, frowning. A good slave would probably be over the moon, getting this present, since he was supposed to only care about Severus' pleasure, wasn't he . . . 

Harry felt like flopping into a chair and just giving up on the whole fucking thing. Yeah, Merry Christmas. 

Merry fucking Christmas. 

Literally. 

Severus' voice broke into his thoughts. "You . . . you look a bit bothered by something. I . . ." He actually took a step backwards. "Did I mistake the situation? You don't care for the idea?" 

Harry glanced up, about to hurl a few home truths at Severus. Such as, _no, I don't care for the idea. You know I only bottom to please you, so why would I want my Christmas present to be something to stick up my arse? Don't I get you shoved in there often enough to suit you, already?_

The look on Severus' face, though, wiped the words right out of Harry. He wasn't sure what could make Severus look the way he did just then. Uncertain. Vulnerable, even. Like he was afraid of what Harry might say next. Like he was afraid of rejection. 

None of which made any sense, considering how well-aware Severus was that Harry _would_ bottom for him, as often as he wanted. Every day, twice a day . . . Harry would do it, if it meant they'd finally end up crossing powers. 

"I just thought . . ." Harry re-thought his words and started over, deciding he'd better not mention how crass the present was. A gift was a gift, after all, and it wasn't like Severus had probably had a lot of practice at sharing Christmas with someone. "I'm sure it's really good salve, Severus. I'm just surprised you'd think we need another. I mean, the ones we have already work fine, don't they?" 

Something in Severus' expression seemed to clear. In fact, Harry could almost swear that something had gone _click_ inside the other man's mind. All at once, Severus looked a good deal more alert. 

"Ah. Well. You've misunderstood my intent, it seems. Harry . . . the salve isn't for you. It's for me." 

Harry thought later that he probably should have got it, then. It wasn't as though the concept itself were so difficult, after all. It was, however, something he'd ruled out, a long, long time ago. 

"Er . . . if it's for you, why'd you wrap it up to give to me?" 

He knew he'd sounded daft from the way Severus' gaze softened a little. Though when Severus did speak, his voice sounded offhand. Like he didn't care one way or the other. "I thought perhaps you might like to use it on me. Tonight, perhaps." 

Even then, it took a moment for the penny to drop. "Oh . . ." 

"Yes, _oh_." 

For all he'd had sex with Severus dozens and dozens of times by then, Harry could still be shy, he found out. "You . . . really? Because I thought . . . um . . ." 

"What did you think?" 

Harry tried for a nonchalant tone, since by then he was aware that he'd probably been making a massive fool of himself, assuming the gift was rude when in fact it was . . . well, pretty considerate, actually. "Well, I thought you didn't do that. Bottom, I mean." 

Oh God, he was sounding more brainless all the time. _Bottom, I mean._ Of course that was what he'd meant! 

Severus took his hand and pulled him out of the chair and over to the settee, sitting down close alongside him. Three long, slow kisses later, Harry was feeling less self-conscious. 

Not to mention aroused. 

Severus pulled back a little, smiling. And no wonder; it was only then that Harry realised he was still clutching the bottle of salve. Severus plucked it from his hand and set it to the side. 

"I suppose I can understand your thinking I didn't bottom," he said slowly, moving his hands to tuck his hair back behind his ears. "The subject hasn't really come up, has it?" 

Harry nodded, the motion vigorous. 

"That's likely because I do much prefer to top," added Severus. "Many wizards have a preference for one role or the other, but it's actually quite rare for even a natural top to never be the man on the bottom, so to speak." 

That was news to Harry. He'd sort of assumed that if a man liked to top, he'd find one that always wanted to bottom--hard as that was to imagine--and that would be that. Right along with that thought had been a more depressing one: that in _this_ relationship Harry was stuck on the bottom even if it _wasn't_ the kind of sex he liked best or would prefer. 

In fact, Harry had long since resigned himself to the idea that the closest he was ever going to come to a proper fuck was frottage. And while frottage was hot and exciting, it wasn't really a fuck at all, was it? 

And now to find out that Severus _was_ willing to bottom? 

"Any reason you never mentioned this until now?" Harry asked, feeling a little annoyed. 

Severus leaned back a little. "The short answer, I suppose, is that I was waiting for you to ask." 

Harry very nearly gaped. "Ask? _Ask?_ For fuck's sake, Severus! Why would I ask when it never once occurred to me that you _did_ that?" 

"It didn't occur to me, until recently, that that might be why you hadn't asked." Severus shrugged. "I should have realised earlier that your background would be a limiting factor." 

"My background, again?" 

"Yes. You probably think the man on the bottom can't switch to the top, because you're thinking of the bottom as his permanent role." Severus tilted his head to one side. "Rather like how a woman, barring invasive surgery, will always remain a woman." 

Harry frowned. He didn't like to hear the comparison put so baldly. But it was basically accurate, wasn't it? "Well, lying there flat on my back, letting you . . . er, have your way with me . . . it is sort of womanish, you know." 

Severus sighed. "I didn't say that the man on the bottom was analogous to a woman." 

Harry's forehead wrinkled. "You didn't?" 

"No. You did, though." 

Oh, God. Another one of _those_ conversations. "Do we need to get some ale and mead in here?" he tried joking, more uncomfortable than before. Because of _course_ bottoming was womanish! The man on the bottom was getting fucked, wasn't he? He wasn't the one getting to thrust inside-- 

Severus' voice abruptly dropped, sounding deeper and somehow more intense. "Harry, being on the bottom is no less masculine than being on top." 

Harry turned his face away. "Sure it isn't." 

"No, it isn't." 

That time, Harry didn't even bother scoffing. 

"Look at me," said Severus, and waited until Harry did. "I don't want perfumed breasts jiggling beneath me as I push into you. I want _you_ , your hard cock in my hand, your taut muscles gleaming with sweat. I want your come squirting into my hand. It's not _womanish_ at all, what you do beneath me." 

All right, at that, Harry did scoff. "Yeah, well it's not all that masculine, is it now? Far as I can recall, I haven't once come. Not while you were in me." 

"No, you haven't," said Severus slowly. "But I think we both know why that is. You were made to feel . . . powerless, once. Not a very arousing thing to feel, and it was probably made worse by the idea I unintentionally fostered . . . this idea that you would always have to be the bottom when we make love. You won't." 

Harry still felt miffed he'd been misled, and that _I was waiting for you to ask_ was a lame excuse, if you asked him. "Define _won't,_ " he said, voice harsh. 

Severus took his hands, a gesture Harry didn't much appreciate at the moment. "I've bottomed before, and while it's not the role I most relish, I'm perfectly happy to do it on occasion. I've pledged myself to meet your needs, don't you see? All your needs, Harry. If you want to top me--" 

" _If_ I want?" asked Harry, incredulously. Something clicked inside his own mind, then. "Oh. _Oh . . ._ that's why you were waiting for me to ask, because you thought I might not want to? Want you?" 

He knew even before he'd finished speaking that he had Severus dead to rights. It was all there in the way the man stiffened, the way his hands clenched, even as they still held Harry's. And then Severus said, hoarsely, "It's one thing for you learn to accept my touch. You've done that without reservation, overcoming obstacles that would have stopped many other men. That's Gryffindor determination, I suppose. It's something else to expect that you would want to . . . penetrate _me_ , when I know you've always imagined yourself performing that act with a witch." 

_Not always,_ thought Harry, thinking of Richard, watching Harry eat ice-cream . . . or the way he'd begun fantasising about David Bryerson. Harry didn't do _that_ any longer, of course. Looking back, the infatuation seemed rather silly to him, when all the time he'd had Severus . . . 

Severus, who was still speaking. "A pretty, young witch, instead of . . ." His voice fell off to almost nothing, then. 

Harry shook his head. "You think I don't know by now that I'm gay, Severus? That I want men-- er, _a_ man, I mean?" 

"You told me yourself you wouldn't, if the spell hadn't forced you into it." 

That didn't sound right to Harry. Well . . . maybe he _had_ said something like that, early on, back before he'd figured himself out. But he knew better, now. 

"But then, it was just because I'd never have even thought about the other possibilities," he argued, earnestly. "The salve . . . it's a good gift, really. I would like to, er, you know. Top you." 

"Why?" 

Harry blinked. "Why? Why do you think?" 

"Because you'll feel like a man, finally. Never mind that you are one no matter how we arrange sex between us." 

"No, because I like your bare arse when you walk, prat!" 

"Do you?" 

"Yeah, I really do--" Harry smiled, shaking his head a little. "I walked right into that, didn't I?" 

"You did, rather." 

Harry smiled wider, deciding he didn't even resent the trick. Not when it was so obvious that Severus needed some reassurance. It couldn't be nice to think that someone wanted to fuck you without really wanting _you._ Actually, it wasn't nice. Harry knew that first-hand. He remembered how awful it had been to think that Severus only wanted him because of some revenge-against-James fantasy. "Yeah, your bare arse," Harry repeated. "I do like it. I think it's sexy. All lean and hard with just the right amount of cheek. Just enough to grab and hold onto, you know? And guess what else? I have a feeling my cock'll just _love_ being inside your arse. Not that I'd know, yet, but anyway, you can't blame me for thinking that topping you'll be fun." 

"So, you do want to." 

It was all Harry could do not to grab a cushion and bean Severus with it. Instead, he leaned forward, all the way forward, pushing the other man down onto his back, with Harry lying on top of him. Then he kissed Severus, long and hard, moving his hips against him in a steady, thrusting rhythm. "Oh, yes," he said when he lifted his head. "I want to. I just want to check, though . . . you said I could be on top _on occasion_ , right? Well, how often is that? Suppose I really like my sex that way?" 

Severus' nostrils flared a little. "You're going to like it perfectly well both ways. We're getting there." 

"But if I like topping a lot more, like you do?" 

"Until the Dark Lord is dead and gone, my own preferences will have to hold sway," said Severus, his hand trailing down Harry's cheek. "You know why. As long as we need the crossed powers that _Cambiare Podentes_ will lend you _,_ my wishes are necessarily more important than your own. But between _us_ , things are not that way. Once you've killed the Dark Lord, we'll have only ourselves to please." 

Harry glanced through his fringe, at Severus. "You'll let me top a lot?" 

Severus reached up and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead. "Of course. We're lovers first; don't ever forget that. Besides . . ." Severus smiled, a little mischievously. 

"Besides?" 

"You'll let me top a lot, too. Won't you?" 

Harry laughed. "Oh, yes. Because we're lovers, right. I get it." Rolling off Severus, then, Harry reached over to the table and grabbed the bottle of salve. "This is really a brilliant Christmas gift, then. _Use liberally . . ._ I should have got it sooner." 

"Yes, well I mean that in earnest," murmured Severus as he sat up and straightened his clothes. "It's been a while since I bottomed for anyone." 

_Not since Voldemort_ , Harry thought almost at once, though of course he didn't know any such thing. He wasn't going to ask for specifics, though. He didn't want to know. And more importantly, perhaps, was the feeling that was swamping him now. He didn't need to know, because Severus was _his_ , now. 

"So, how'd you pick this salve, anyway? We could just use the same ones as usual--" 

"I thought something special for your first time would be a good idea. And I like the scent." 

Harry uncorked the bottle and sniffed. Pretty strong scent, he thought. Tangy, almost. _Masculine_. "So, bedroom?" he suggested, waggling his eyebrows up and down. "I don't think I can wait." 

"You don't want to open the rest of your presents?" 

Harry rolled his eyes. "More student drek? Look, I appreciate the thought, I guess, but I've already got the best Christmas present a bloke could ask for." 

"Not even this one?" Severus withdrew a thin envelope from a trouser pocket. 

Harry stared. "Oh. Bollocks. I only got you the one thing, you know." 

"Oh yes, and it was almost nothing," said Severus, his eyes flashing. "A cauldron that would be the envy of any brewer, and that only cost what? Your _name?_ Compared to a ten-Galleon bottle of salve, yes, that's hardly even worth mentioning." 

Harry held up the salve. "Oh, yeah. And this has _only_ monetary value, of course." 

Severus smiled. "Someone's been teaching you sarcasm." 

"Wonder who?" 

"As charming as your witty repartee can be, at this point I'd like you to actually accept my gift," drawled Severus. 

Harry grinned and took it. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "A gift certificate to a men's wear shop? You don't think I have enough formal clothes?" 

"I picked them all out for you, which didn't delight you at the time, as I recall. That should remedy the situation. And in case you still feel you don't really know enough about formal clothes to select your own, the shop has excellent staff to assist you." 

"That's really considerate, Severus. Thank you." Some imp inside Harry couldn't leave it at that. "So you won't mind, then, if I buy new dress robes in Gryffindor colours?" 

"Oh, no, certainly I won't mind," said Severus, dark humour lurking in his voice. "All the more reason to strip you naked, sooner." 

Harry laughed and tossed the certificate to the table, before grabbing Severus' hands and pulling him toward the bedroom. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
**Friday, December 25, 1998 ---- 11:19 a.m.**

As soon as they were in the bedroom, Harry remembered something. "Oh. Er . . . forgot the bottle. Be right back." 

Harry didn't like the feeling he had as he walked back to get it, like this was getting off to a bad start already. Forgetting the salve . . . it was going to look like he didn't have any idea what to do! 

And he _did_ know what to do. God knows Severus had done it often enough to _him_. He just hadn't done it before, but he didn't want it to seem like he was fumbling his way around and needed to be tutored or something. 

Grabbing the bottle, Harry strode back toward the bedroom, determined on one thing: he wasn't going to act like some shy, ridiculous virgin when he got back to Severus. He was going to enjoy himself, damn it. Thoroughly. It was about time he got a chance to be the man on top, after all. 

Severus was sitting on the bed, still clothed, when Harry walked in. Harry was kind of anxious to get down to business. His pants felt tight and scratchy, like his cock was demanding to be freed, _now_. And really, Harry thought he probably could just demand that Severus strip and they get on with it. Severus wouldn't say a word in protest; he was obviously back to letting Harry lead. 

Harry was a better lover than that, though. A lot better. Well, he should be. He'd had a great teacher. 

So he set the salve down on the night table, and drew his wand to arrange the room a bit better. The scattered candles flared to life as the other lights dimmed. There, that was better. 

Sitting down next to Severus, Harry twisted sideways so he could wrap his arms around the other man's neck. He tugged slightly, just enough so that their lips met, and started kissing Severus. Not like he'd been kissing him lately, either. This time, Harry wasn't trying to become aroused because he knew he'd soon be spreading his thighs for Severus, because he had to try his best to come. No, this kiss was one of desire already roaring to life. 

Harry wanted Severus to know how much Harry wanted him. 

Kissing, of course, just made Harry want him all the more. "Mmm," said Harry, drawing back slightly so he could speak against the other man's lips. "This is going to be brilliant. I can tell. And just for the record, if you have any more great sex ideas, don't wait around seeing if I'll read your mind and _ask_ , eh?" 

Severus looked a little bit startled. Harry wasn't sure what had surprised him. The request itself, or Harry's forthright manner? Well, how many times had Severus said he didn't really want a slave? Even the contract said that Harry was supposed to be himself. 

And he might not have topped before, but he knew what he was about, all the same. 

When Severus began undoing the long row of tiny buttons across his own chest, Harry batted the man's hands away. "You're mine, remember? I get to do that." 

Several hundred buttons later--seemed like it, anyway--Harry peeled back black fabric to reveal the pale, smooth skin beneath. He ran his hands over Severus' chest, playing with his nipples a little, liking the way Severus' breathing would hitch when Harry pulled on them. 

Eventually, though, he had to finish taking Severus' shirt off. 

Trousers next, of course, and pants, Harry's mouth watering as more and more of Severus came into view. Finally, the man was bare-arsed naked, sitting back down next to Harry, who didn't want to rush things. Oh, he was randy enough to, certainly, but he wanted to savour the experience. 

Particularly considering it wasn't going to happen every day, what with the need to cross powers and this not being Severus' absolute favourite when it came to making love. 

For someone who didn't prefer to bottom, though, he was certainly being cooperative, Harry thought. Hmm, maybe if Harry did this right, did it really well, Severus would like it more than he usually did. Enough to bottom a lot more than he'd planned. 

That would be brilliant. Harry didn't want to have to be the one on the bottom all the time. Or even most of the time. And now, learning that he _would_ get the chance to top occasionally . . . 

Well, he was going to do everything he could to make sure Severus had every reason to like having Harry on top. 

Harry didn't want to ask any questions; he thought it would make him look like a clumsy oaf. He did, however, have to ask one. 

"Your Happy Bottoming Lubricant . . . that's all right to use as a backrub lotion, isn't it?" 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Yes, though you might consider taking your shirt off, first." 

Harry laughed and gently pushed against the other man's shoulder, urging him to scoot back on the bed. "Very funny. The salve's for _you_ , remember? Now, roll onto your stomach and relax." 

Severus did, though he murmured, "I'm quite happy bottoming, Harry. You don't need to lead up to it slowly if you'd prefer--" 

"What happened to _there's value in anticipation?_ " interrupted Harry. "Hmm? You just . . . er, stop trying to top from the bottom, Severus." 

A noise that sounded vaguely like choking. "Where did you learn a phrase like that?" 

Harry chuckled as he toed off his shoes. Throwing a leg over Severus' thighs to straddle him, he admitted, "It was in a book I read once. You know, I don't think I got it at the time, but it makes sense, now. Now, relax like I said. I'll take care of everything." 

He knew how to give a backrub, of course. In fact, he knew that he was really pretty good at it. Harry spread the salve liberally, the tang of green apple rising into the air, and then leaned on his palms, pressing hard into the small of Severus' back. 

"Ah . . ." 

Harry barely heard the noise of pleasure, and _that_ certainly wouldn't do. "Don't hold back," he said, pressing harder still. "I want to hear you. Actually, I'm going to need to hear you, right? To know what you like and how you like it. You shouldn't try to be so quiet when we make love, anyway, you know. What do you think I'm going to do, make fun of you or something?" 

Severus moaned a little louder, then. It sounded a little forced to Harry. Like the man was trying too hard. 

"It's just a habit with me," he said a moment later. "I learned caution . . . early on." 

Harry took that to mean that Severus had been with some wizard or other that _had_ ridiculed him. _What kind of arse would do that,_ Harry wondered, but the answer wasn't so very difficult to figure out, was it, Severus being in Slytherin. 

"Well, you don't need caution, now," said Harry, pushing away the vague images stealing into his mind. Images of a younger Severus still attending school here, another wizard at his side as they searched out dark corners. He didn't want to think about Severus with someone else. Or about Severus being treated badly, either. "You're with me, now. You're mine, remember? And I love to listen to you, Severus. When you make some noise and I know it's _me_ giving you that pleasure . . . well, it's sexy as hell." 

Severus gave a very slight nod as he lay there. 

Harry went back to the backrub, teasing out this spot of tension and that, until it seemed to him that Severus was practically melting into the bedcovers. 

Meanwhile, Harry was about as hard as a man could possibly get. _Mmm._ Probably he should get undressed himself; it was a bit silly to still be fully clothed as he straddled Severus, but somehow, Harry liked the feeling of Severus being the only one naked. It was like Harry really _was_ the top; he wasn't the one who was stripped bare and helpless. 

Not this time. 

So Harry was going to keep his clothes on as long as he could. It just seemed . . . masculine, somehow. Shifting back a little bit, and thrust experimentally against Severus' lean buttocks. The friction was delicious. Unbearable, even, since Harry knew it was just a teaser to what was coming next. Harry quickly moved off of Severus. 

"Roll over, then," he said, lightly slapping the other man's hip. 

Severus started to, then paused. 

"What?" 

Severus pushed up on his hands and knees, then craned his neck to look sideways at Harry. "I like this position, actually." 

Harry swept his gaze back and forth along the line of Severus' back, parallel to the bed. Part of him felt shocked that anybody could like _that_ position. Harry had nothing but bad memories of something similar. 

"You don't want to look at me?" he asked, his erection trying to do two things at once. Wilt, of course, because he'd just thought of that room in London, and what had happened there. But there was Severus' arse, up in the air, on display, looking . . . inviting, Harry thought. Tempting. And so his cock tried to lengthen, too. 

All in all, the end result was very confusing. 

"I think you know how much I like to look at you," said Severus, his voice thick. "At all times, and most especially during sex. But as for bottoming . . . I do like this angle. If you'd rather not have me like this, however . . ." 

"No, it's all right," said Harry, swallowing. His cock had won the argument with his memory, anyway. And if Severus _liked_ this . . . well, it still struck him as very odd, but then again, plenty of men did use this position. He'd seen as much in those books, hadn't he? 

Harry peeled off his socks and quickly shucked off the rest of his clothes, though he kept his wand on the bed with him. He laid his glasses on the night table and grabbed the bottle of salve again, smearing more onto his hands and then rubbing them all over Severus' arse cheeks, just to heighten the anticipation. 

The other man remained quiet--though he _had_ got a bit more vocal during the backrub--until the edge of Harry's hand slipped into the crack of his arse. Then he hissed in a breath, but it was clearly a noise of pleasure, not pain or fear. 

Even so, Harry found himself asking, "You like that?" 

"Oh, yes," said Severus, his voice not quite gasping, but not far off, either. "But it has been a while for me, so be sure to stretch me--" 

Harry's slap against Severus' hip that time was a little less playful. "Yeah, got it." 

Before starting, though, Harry picked up his wand and tried to cast the cleansing spell Severus always used. He wasn't sure it had worked, though. "Did you feel a tingle?" 

Severus shook his head, arching his back a little like his arse was searching for Harry's hand again. Harry couldn't help but smile at that. But, first things first. He tried the cleansing spell again, putting a little more force into the way he twisted his wrist as he moved his wand. There, that was better. It had looked a lot more like Severus' casting, that time. 

And he didn't need to ask if Severus had felt the tingle, either. It was all there in the way the other man suddenly spread his thighs more, like he knew he was ready, now. 

Well, ready to be stretched, at any rate. 

Harry's fingers were trembling a little as he dribbled more salve onto them. One hand on Severus' hip, his palm connecting with the contour of hard bone, Harry leaned forward and dragged his wet fingers along Severus' crack until they rested against the puckered entrance to his body. Harry traced it, his index finger swirling 'round and 'round, exploring. It felt . . . odd. Not really like anything he'd ever felt, before. 

But he liked it, and Severus was obviously appreciating the soft caress. His breathing changed tone, becoming deeper. Raspier. And then, as Harry pressed a finger inward, it sounded like he was holding his breath. 

Severus let it out in a whoosh when Harry's finger popped past the entrance and went into him. He didn't exactly _gibber_ , the way Harry had that once, but he did moan a little, which of course encouraged Harry to push in deeper. 

He was a little startled when Severus pushed back against him. Harry's finger ended up buried in tight arse, all the way to the base. And yes, Severus _did_ have a tight arse. Harry hadn't really thought much about how it would feel to do this . . . he'd been a lot more interested in how it would feel on his cock. Pressing his finger inside, though, was like getting an advance sense of that. Severus clenched around him, and Harry felt a _zing_ travel straight along his arm and then down into his cock. 

Because, of course, his cock was the part of him that wanted to be caressed like that. _Hugged_ like that, even. 

Oh, yes, Severus was tight. Harry liked it. 

But the point here was to stretch Severus' arse out a bit, he abruptly remembered, not enjoy the way Severus was arching against his hand as if seeking more of it. With that thought in mind, Harry moved his finger more vigorously, levering it up and down, then side to side, feeling the smooth passageway all around. 

He wanted to grasp Severus firmly by the hips and sink into him, all the way into him, but one finger wasn't much preparation for a man's cock, and Severus had always been _very_ considerate to stretch Harry thoroughly--well, not lately, since Harry was pretty limber down there, these days--but at any rate, Severus probably needed more than a finger first, so Harry pulled his hand back and stretched out his middle finger too. 

This time he was less patient about the matter, twisting his hand this way and that, trying his best for Severus. 

He lost his patience completely, however, when his middle finger brushed against a hard spot inside Severus, one that caused the man to stiffen from head to toe, his moans now hitting a higher note. It sounded almost like pain, that noise, but Harry knew better. He remembered. A noise like that came from only one thing--pleasure so intense that it very nearly bordered on pain. 

Grinning--he was turning out to be all right at topping, he thought--Harry reached down, bending slightly so he could catch Severus' cock in his free hand. Hard, long, the tip weeping with need . . . Harry's grin widened. Oh, yes. This was great fun. He wanted to drive Severus wild with need, and then, wild with satisfaction. 

This time, when Harry stroked his finger against Severus' prostate, he squeezed the man's cock, moving his hand along it from base to tip as he applied pressure. 

And Severus actually groaned. Not an inarticulate groan, either. Harry could make out words in there. Well, one word. Sounded like _more._

Harry gave him what he was asking for, but really, once more was all _he_ could stand. Much more of this and he'd be reaching a hand down to rub himself off. Would probably only take ten seconds before he came, too. 

Which brought up a good point, Harry suddenly thought. He wanted to sink himself balls-deep into Severus, _right now_ , but he didn't want to disgrace himself by coming before he'd finished his first stroke! 

No, he wanted to enjoy himself for a good, long while. 

And he wanted Severus to enjoy it, too. Things were certainly looking good in that department, as long as Harry didn't come before he'd ever properly got started. 

"More," said Severus again, the word thick. Panting, almost. "You--" 

Harry needed no more invitation than that. Withdrawing his fingers, he coated his straining cock with salve and pushed the tip of it against Severus' entrance. One quick push popped him inside. 

_Ah, God._ Harry really had nothing to compare this to, except a blowjob, but this wasn't really anything like that. It was tighter, with a lot more friction, although not enough to be in any sense uncomfortable. And it was wet, but a different kind of wet than being in Severus' mouth. There was no tongue here to lick and tease him, to bring him off. 

No . . . Harry was in charge, now. Fully in charge. It was up to _him_ how hard he thrust, how fast. 

The thought of it almost made Harry dizzy. For the first time in his life, he thought he could actually understand the idea of going mad with power. He could see it now, could see how that could happen, how being in _control_ like this, could be intoxicating. 

Grabbing both Severus' hips, Harry jerked forward again, burying himself to the hilt. 

If fucking had been good before, now it was just plain unbelievable. Pleasure flooded through his cock, wave after wave of it, but then Severus bore down on it a little, and the feeling crested. _So intense._ Harry heard himself start moaning. Loudly. 

He very nearly _did_ come, right then and there, on his first stroke. The heat, the pressure, the _control_ . . . it was almost too much for him. 

Harry saved himself from utter disgrace only by quickly thinking about Hermione. Yeah, talking to Hermione out by the lake, and how embarrassed he'd been. _Uh-oh._ Even that wasn't enough to really help him calm down so this could last, so Harry redoubled his mental efforts. Hermione . . . er-- Ron and Hermione, having sex. Naked sex. 

All right, that was enough. Harry's cock relaxed just a little, then, just enough for Harry to feel he was getting back in control of his reflexes. Good, good. Yeah, he could keep on, now. 

Harry pulled out and pushed back in, and as he did, Severus gave a little gasping moan. 

It was only then, really, that Harry remembered that he had someone else besides himself to think of, here. Strange how he could have lost track of that, when _without_ that other person none of this would be possible, but the sheer physical pleasure of burying his cock deep inside a tight arse had really taken him by storm. 

But Severus, yeah. Harry did want this to be good for Severus. Well, as good as it could be, considering that bottoming wasn't Severus' favourite thing. Harry could relate to that, since _he_ didn't think it was all that great, either. But he really should try to make sure that Severus had the best time possible. 

Just like Severus always tried to do for Harry. 

"How's that?" gasped Harry as he pushed in again, setting up a steady rhythm then. _In, out. Push, pull._ Every motion dragging tight skin against his cock and making him almost grit his teeth to keep from coming. Yeah, this was nothing like a blowjob. _That_ was almost gentle in comparison. But _this . . ._ Harry could really let rip, at any moment. 

He could pound Severus into the mattress. 

He could, and _would_ , since that was apparently what Severus wanted, too. "Harder," said the other man, sounding desperate for it. "Harder. Cock, yes, take my cock--" 

Harry leaned down, his chest resting against Severus' back, and reached underneath Severus' body to take his cock in hand. 

Severus shuddered and started moving differently, his hips undulating in a way that caused his cock to slide back and forth within Harry's cupped hand. And then he jerked his head up and made a sound like air whistling through clenched teeth. 

Harry abruptly went still, not understanding. 

Severus wasn't having _that_ , not for a second. "No, more! Move! Harder," he said, and by the end that time, his tone was close to begging. He rolled his hips again, and made the same high whistling noise, and then, Harry knew the truth. 

Well, two truths. 

That rolling motion was angling Severus' arse just right so that Harry's cock was stroking Severus' prostate. 

And . . . 

The man on the bottom, in this case at least, wasn't going to just lie there and be filled. Not that Harry had really done _that_ with Severus; he'd tried to participate. But he'd done it because that was what Severus had wanted. 

But _Severus_ , here, now . . . he was participating to please himself. He was enjoying this. Every bit of this. And more than that . . . Severus was controlling what was going on here, too, in a sense. 

Harry felt a low shudder course through him, starting with his toes and moving up and up until it seemed like he had goose-pimples raising themselves along his nape. Severus was still rolling his hips, still gasping, his cock sliding through Harry's fingers, his every movement somehow _jerkier_ than the moment before. Insistent. Desperate. 

And then, all at once, Severus' arms collapsed beneath him, his head falling heavily to the mattress, and his cock began pulsing, spurting warm come across Harry's fingers. 

That felt so good that Harry felt himself swept up into it, soaring higher and higher on a crest of pleasure, like when a wind billowed just under your broom and you rode on it straight up into the clouds. 

"Aaaaah!" groaned Harry, his own climax coming hard and fast. And _deep._ Deep inside Severus, inside his lover. 

Like Sex Magic, bonding them more tightly to one another than before. 

Afterwards, Harry didn't want to move. His cock was softening, so Harry thrust his hips forward again, trying to stay buried, to stay connected. It was just too good, all of it. He could stay here all day and night, just lightly running his hands across Severus' shoulders, caressing them. 

"Harry . . ." 

"Mmmm?" Harry leaned down further and lay his torso across Severus' back. The other man's contours were hard, but somehow comfortable. Harry felt so relaxed and happy, he decided he could probably go straight to sleep. 

"My knees are really starting to ache." 

Oh. Well, that certainly broke the mood, but Harry didn't really mind. Rolling off, he scooped up his wand and cast a few cleansing spells. They sprayed out in all directions, a little haphazardly, which was probably a reflection of his mood. He just felt . . . _languid,_ and it only got better when Severus rolled onto his back and pulled Harry up against him, the two of them lying cuddled together, Harry's head on Severus' shoulder. 

"Wow," Harry finally said, closing his eyes. He almost saw stars, even now. "That was, wow. Intense. I knew topping would be good, but, well, I knew it would be great, but that was fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic, from start to finish." The rest came out before he could stop it. "Um, I didn't finish too soon, did I? I mean, I wanted it to last, but then you came and, well, that was it." 

"Very, very satisfactory," drawled Severus. 

"For a first time?" 

"Did I say that?" 

"There you go again, not answering the question." 

Severus pulled him a little bit closer. "I wouldn't have known it was your first time, if you were a new man I'd just met." 

That made Harry almost preen, except for one thing. "Yeah, well you aren't meeting any new men, Severus. Not like that." 

"You did hear the operative word? _If?_ " 

But Harry had already gone on to something else. "And I can top you again, sometime?" 

"Of course." 

"Sometime soon?" 

The skin around Severus eyes crinkled, like he was trying to repress an indulgent smile. "Yes, of course. It obviously makes you happy." 

Talk about understatement! "Later on today, say? You did say _tonight_ , when you gave me the salve." Stretching, Harry gave a loud yawn. "You know, this is the best Christmas ever, Severus. I mean that. Best gift, ever ever _ever_." 

"Now, you can't properly claim that," said Severus in a droll tone. "Not when there are still unopened presents sitting out for you. Perhaps one of them will top this." 

"Nothing can top topping. No way." 

Harry felt rather than heard Severus give a slight sigh. "You do remember what I said, earlier?" 

"Oh, _on occasion._ Yeah, I get it. Don't worry. I know what we have to do." Harry yawned again, but he thought it must be some kind of reflex, since he wasn't all that sleepy. Actually, he was starting to feel a bit peckish. 

Or more than a bit, he thought when his stomach actually rumbled. "We can worry about that later, though. Let's order some brunch!" 

"We just had breakfast--" 

"I didn't eat much and I've burned it all off," said Harry grinning. "I bet you know how. And guess what? I'm going to order a huge meal, so I have plenty of energy for later!" 

Severus kissed him, then. "Merry Christmas, Harry." 

Harry kissed him back. "A very merry Christmas, Severus." 

  
  
  
  



	46. Chapter 46

 

 

**Saturday, December 26, 1998 ---- 9:27 p.m.**

Harry opened an eye as Severus reached the end of the story and closed the book. "Mmm. That was a good one. Have I mentioned that you read out loud really well?" Sitting up on the settee, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "It makes me hot and bothered, you know?" 

Severus laid aside _1001 Wizard Nights._ "Perhaps the subject matter has something to do with that, eh?" 

Harry laughed. "I still can't believe that a woman wrote most of those. Anyway, though, I think I'm ready for bed, now." He shot a glance to Severus' trouser placket. Hmm. Not tented, but there was a definite bulge, there. "Looks like you are, too." 

"I really shouldn't be, after last night, _and_ your waking me up in the middle of the night, _and_ then again this morning." 

Harry grinned, thinking back to each one of those times. Severus' back arching as Harry pounded into him. The way he would turn his head to look backwards, his eyes glazed with pleasure, his mouth open, panting. 

Though this morning had been different. Severus had suggested a new position. He'd straddled Harry's lap and played with his own cock as Harry thrust up into him. They'd probably looked silly, but Harry didn't care. He kept remembering something Severus had said a long time ago. 

_They had only themselves to please._

"Yeah. It's been my best Boxing Day, yet," Harry said, sighing with pleasure. "Best everything. Really, Severus. I couldn't have asked for better." 

Severus stood up and drew Harry into his arms. "That's very good to hear. And don't think I haven't enjoyed bottoming for you--" 

"Hey, I know you have." Harry waggled his eyebrows a little. "The man on the bottom can't exactly fake it, you know." 

Severus kissed him. "No, I couldn't. No need to, with you on top. But I think you remember what we discussed yesterday morning. Yes?" 

"Yeah, I know." Harry shrugged. "You've been great, but I know I can't top every time. Especially not now. So . . . it's time, you think? To switch back?" 

The look in Severus' eyes was answer enough. 

"All right," said Harry, trying not to sigh, or sound disappointed about it. That would just be petty, in the circumstances. What did he have to complain about? Severus really _had_ been great. About everything. "How about a bath first, and we can drive each other into a froth, first?" 

Severus kissed him again, but this time it felt a little different than usual. Almost like the man was thanking him. For being a good sport? Harry didn't know, but he didn't much like it. 

Drawing Severus closer, Harry changed the kiss into something more passionate. A hot, sizzling kiss. There, that was better, he thought, as he led the way to the bath. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, December 26, 1998 ---- 10:12 p.m.**

"Brrr," said Harry, burrowing under the blankets, shivering. "It's really cold." 

"That's what you get for dashing from the bathroom still damp," said Severus, shaking his head. "There's a reason I use a drying charm." 

"But then you don't get that warm-up-in-bed feeling. I like it." 

"So much so that you just complained about it?" 

Harry moved closer the moment Severus slid smoothly in beside him. "Oh, you have to complain. Besides, I told you, drying charms make my hair stick up." 

"Stick up more, you mean?" 

Harry laughed. Once, a comment like that would have really bothered him, but he could tell now that the attempt at mockery was really Severus' way of being affectionate. "Let's make you stick up more." Harry made a show of looking under the sheets. "Oh, my, look at that. Maybe you should cut back on those drying charms." 

"Very droll." Severus carded his fingers through Harry's hair, but not to smooth it down. He was running his hand upwards, and the look in his eyes was . . . Harry didn't know what to call it, except _affectionate_ also. But then Severus seemed to realise what he was doing, and he jerked his hand away to reach for his wand. 

"Are you still cold?" Without waiting for an answer, Severus cast a warming spell all around. When he looked at Harry again, his dark eyes were flashing in a way Harry easily recognised. Not affection, not now. That look was pure desire. Or more than desire. 

_Lust._

Harry felt an answering rush of desire in his own cock. Which was strange, in a way, since he knew what was coming. Or rather, he knew _who_ would be coming, and it wouldn't be him. Not while he was bottoming, at any rate. 

But, it was time to get back to that now; Severus was right. And no point in complaining. He'd just spoil the mood. 

Harry shoved the blankets off both of them and scooted down a little, off the pillows. "Right. All set, then." 

Severus trailed his fingers down Harry's thigh, his fingertips just barely brushing against cock and balls. The whole thing gave Harry a pleasant shiver. "There are other positions, you know." 

Harry did know, but he wasn't about to get on his hands and knees. Severus might like that, and that was fine for him, but Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to stand the position. Not that Severus probably meant _that_. He was more likely thinking of having Harry on his lap. 

Even that made Harry feel a little . . . squishy inside, somehow. It would just be so _obvious_ what was going on. He'd rather keep on as they had been. At least lying on his back, he could pretend there was nothing going on but frottage. 

"This one's best," he said. 

"I suppose it must be," said Severus, a comment that was lost on Harry until he realised that the other man must be referring to the mind bond: Severus _knew_ Harry was telling the truth about his preferences. 

Not a very sexy thought, reminding him as it did that no matter how _affectionate_ Severus ever got, Harry was going to remain a slave until the end of his days. His erection visibly drooped. 

Severus' lips tightened, but then, like a man determined, he changed positions to face the bottom of the bed, and went down on Harry. 

Taken somewhat by surprise, Harry groaned low in his throat and thrust upwards. For a moment he just let himself enjoy the attention, but then he remembered that as good as a blowjob was, sixty-nine was usually even more brilliant, so he manoeuvred a little until he could work Severus' cock into his mouth, too. 

Yeah, that was what he liked. A long, hard cock sliding smoothly between his lips, going down his throat when Harry shifted to let it, and all the while, his own cock was being . . . well, practically worshipped, down there. 

Harry didn't know another word for it. 

Severus kept it up until Harry was needy. Gasping. _Primed._ And then he raised his head, just enough to speak. "More?" 

The temptation to say _yes_ was practically overwhelming, but Harry wasn't really selfish enough to do it. He knew what Severus wanted most, and it wasn't sixty-nine. 

"No," he panted, as soon as he worked his mouth free from Severus' cock. No easy feat, that, when Harry was on the bottom . . . though mutual cocksucking didn't make him feel like he was _really_ on the bottom. "I want you in me." 

No headache, no blazing surge of pain. Of course not. It wasn't quite the truth, but it wasn't quite a lie, either. He _did_ want Severus inside him. He just didn't want it for the usual reasons. 

Probably there weren't too many people thinking of Voldemort when they made love, Harry thought, some kind of maudlin dark humour sweeping through him. He might actually be the only one. 

And that was one too many, wasn't it? Harry pushed the evil git from his mind, focussing instead on the fall of Severus' black hair as the man moved to lay atop him, face to face again. Harry concentrated on that hair, and on the way it looked against the pale backdrop of the man's skin. _Oh, yes._ That was what he liked. 

As Severus bent to kiss him, his hips striking up the familiar rhythm of frottage, cock sliding on wet cock, Harry wrapped his arms around him and held on tight. _Mmmm. Good. Perfect . . ._

Harry let his eyes drift shut and just _enjoyed._

When Severus shifted off him a little, Harry kept his eyes closed, but not because he was afraid to look or anything. Those days were long past. He was just content now to float. Preferred it, actually. Staying suspended in a kind of sexual haze, his cock hard, his balls feeling high and tight and heavy. 

But this time, the haze was a little different from usual. A sharp scent drifted across him. It didn't take Harry an instant to place it, not after the number of times he'd opened the bottle of _Happy Bottoming Lubricant_ in the past couple of days. 

Green apple and raspberry, and this time, Severus was the one pouring it into his hands. 

The scent instantly conjured something inside Harry. Memories . . . no, nothing as overt as that. It was more like an awareness that recently, Harry had been the one spreading that lubricant over arse cheeks, the one sliding one finger, then two, inside a tight arse. 

Or not even an awareness. 

A _connection_ , from that to this. Like yesterday and today were the same, except in reverse. Mirrored images. 

Something inside Harry seemed to open up, somewhere deep inside his chest. He didn't know what it was. He just knew that all of a sudden, he felt more relaxed. He hadn't thought he could _get_ more that way, but now, even with Severus' fingers deep inside him, he didn't need to remind himself to breathe. 

Harry moaned, thrusting his hips up, and as Severus' finger almost brushed against his prostate, memory did snap into him, as sharp as brilliant sunlight. Yes, _yes._ He had to _roll_ his hips, that was right. Roll them just so, and Severus' finger would do more than brush, wouldn't it? It would stroke his prostate, roll right over it, circling it, almost. 

Harry curled his pelvis and gave a little roll of his hips, and felt the world explode inside him. 

Or maybe that was _him_ , exploding outwards, for all he hadn't come. 

"God--" he gasped, biting his lip as shudders of pleasure wracked him. It was almost too much to take. If Severus had still been sucking his cock, he'd have come for sure. "Oh, my _God_ \--" 

Severus said something then, his deep voice washing over Harry, but Harry was too far gone in sensation to sort out the sounds. Good sounds, though. When Severus stopped talking, Harry sort of clouted him on the side of the head. He didn't mean to, really. It was just that he felt so uncoordinated. Unhinged, even. 

But there was nothing wrong with his hips. It was like they were rolling on their own now, while Harry could do very little but arch his neck back and babble something mindless as pulses of pleasure surged through his balls and cock, radiating out in milder waves that coursed across his thighs and chest and shoulders and calves. 

"Talk--" he managed, finally, his hands coming up to grab hold of Severus' hair. "Keep--" 

"Feels good, does it?" asked Severus in a voice full of good humour. Or delight, really. Well, this _would_ delight him, wouldn't it, Harry gasping in pleasure at his hand? Literally, at his hand. 

And Harry knew, _knew,_ from experience that this time, that if fingers were good, then a cock filling him would be even better. Severus had liked cock better than fingers, anyway, had begged for it, almost-- 

Harry could suddenly understand that, better than before. 

No . . . _like_ never before. 

"You," he said, the syllable crisp and clear. Keen, almost. Though his ability to speak seemed to be dissolving as Severus began to slide his fingers out of Harry's bum. "Sev-- Sev'rus--" 

"Shh," said the other man, moving into position atop him, kissing Harry as he settled in. Harry spread his thighs open, liking the feeling it gave him, this time. Control, in a strange way. Because _he_ wanted Severus, this time. He was welcoming him in, getting more of what he wanted . . . 

"Just enjoy," whispered Severus, holding Harry's hips with both his hands as the hard, blunt end of his cock pressed against Harry's entrance. 

Harry opened his legs wider, _wanting_ like he'd never wanted before, angling his hips up, his cock feeling like it would just _die_ if something didn't happen soon. 

"I'm trying to," groaned Harry, yanking his hands from where they'd been tangled in Severus hair, so he could push against the man's lean buttocks, urging him on. 

"There's value in anticipation," said Severus, clearly teasing, as he nudged his cock in just a bit. Just an inch, when Harry needed all of him, _now._

But that was right . . . Harry didn't have to just lie here and take it, for all he wanted it. He could _have_ it, whatever he wanted. _All_ he wanted. 

Grabbing Severus' hips, hard, his nails digging in, Harry rolled his pelvis up again, and felt Severus sink into him, balls-deep. 

He very nearly shouted, that felt so good, even though there'd been none of that _zinging_ sensation he'd been enjoying earlier. No problem, though; Harry knew how to get that, too. 

As Severus pulled out and began to plunge forward again, Harry rolled his hips once more, his hands on Severus' hips pushing, shoving really, to get that cock sliding into him at a better angle. 

And then, he did shout. Or scream, maybe. Harry heard it through another haze, the scent of green apple and raspberry filling his nostrils as Severus filled _him_ , every bit of him, the sensation of that so good and _right_ that Harry almost felt like he was coming without coming. 

Or like every part of him was climaxing. Like there was pleasure _everywhere._ Harry wrapped his arms around Severus, holding him tightly. As tightly as he could, and then, he just _rocked_ with him. 

_In, out, in, out,_ Harry's straining cock caught between their sweat-slicked bodies. 

_The beast with two backs,_ he suddenly thought, the phrase coming out of nowhere. And then, another thought, this one very nearly as startling. _How could I have wanted Severus' cock to be anything but long and thick? What was I thinking?_

Harry suddenly laughed, feeling like he was snapping out of a bad dream into a good one. Not that that had ever happened to him, but it was happening now. "This . . . great," he gasped, kissing Severus in between the words. "You . . . _ahhhh!_ " 

Severus abruptly stilled, panting hard as he raised his face away from Harry, who didn't understand. 

The sudden stillness made him more able to speak, however. Well, slightly more able. "What . . . no, it's great, I . . . keep _on_ , would you?" 

Harry rolled his hips again to get his point across. It felt good. Fantastic . . . but without Severus moving too, it wasn't mind-blowing. 

"It'll be over in two seconds if I don't take a moment," said Severus in a rough voice. 

" _Oh . . ._ " Harry gave his lover a wicked smile. He remembered that feeling. Topping, and wanting to make sure he didn't come too fast. "In that case, take a minute, yeah. We wouldn't want you to do worse than I did, after all." 

"Whelp," muttered Severus, rolling his own hips in a sudden, almost vicious motion that had him balls-deep again. But then he stilled. "Enjoying this, are you? Seeing me about to boil over too soon?" 

Harry smoothed his hands down Severus' back. "Yes, I am enjoying it," he said. "And not just that part of it." 

"Oh, I can tell you are," drawled Severus, beginning to move again. "Going to give as good as you get this time, aren't you?" 

"Going to _get_ as good as--" Harry tried to finish the sentence, but Severus was making love to him in earnest again, by then, and _he_ was the one about to boil over. Or come apart at the seams, maybe. All he knew was that speech danced out of reach. Everything did, except motion and sensation and pure need, burning through him like firewhiskey. 

Harry _ground_ his hips up, almost there. Almost, _almost . . ._ but there wasn't quite enough to push him over the edge of the cliff. He made a noise of frustration, something between a grunt and a yelp, and then remembered Severus fondling himself as he'd straddled Harry's lap. 

_Well, hell._ Why hadn't he thought of that before? All the times he'd bottomed, and it had never even crossed his mind, not even when Severus had grabbed hold of his cock . . . 

Harry plunged both his hands down between their bodies and began to stroke himself. There, and oh yes, _there,_ some attention to the head, then long, hard pulls up and down, his hands matching the rhythm of Severus pushing into him, full-length, and pulling out nearly as far. 

"Harder," gasped Harry. He wanted more, harder, faster, everything Severus had, he _wanted._

The other man suddenly shifted positions, sliding backwards, completely out of Harry, rising up on his knees and lifting Harry up over his angled legs, plunging into him again, _impaling_ him. 

Harry screamed, his hands rubbing frantically over his cock. He pulled it vertical, liking the edge of tension he got that way, and squeezed harder as he pumped himself. Almost, almost, al _most--_

And then Severus' cock stroked his prostate, and Harry rolled his hips for all he was worth, keeping the sensation strong and constant, more and more, and before he even knew it was going to happen, it did. He was coming, his climax so fierce that it was like the ritual bath all over again, his semen practically under _pressure_ , spraying out and up into the air to rain back down onto his legs and Severus' thighs. 

Severus' whole body seemed to spasm, his hands dragging Harry even harder onto his cock, and then his own cock began pulsing, deep inside Harry. And then he was grunting, his head flung back, the tendons in his neck standing out as he opened his mouth and _howled._

Wow . . . amazing, that's all Harry could think, and not just because he'd got Severus to howl like that. It was also that he was still coming, a little, his orgasm beginning to ebb away just as Severus' began. And Harry could swear, _swear_ , that feeling Severus come made his own climax last just a bit longer than usual. 

Fan-fucking-tastic, again. 

Though, perhaps not quite so much as topping, Harry thought after a moment. 

But then again, he didn't think he'd be complaining about bottoming again, either. 

He lifted himself up off of Severus' softening cock and slid backwards to lie panting on the sheets, vaguely aware that he was smiling ear-to-ear and probably looked like an idiot. But what did that matter? Severus wasn't about to complain, that was for damned sure. 

Summoning a flannel, Severus moistened it, and then began wiping at Harry's belly and thighs. Not as efficient as a cleaning charm, Harry thought, but it was better. More intimate. 

"You're good," he heard himself say, the words slurred. 

"Yes, I could tell," drawled Severus. 

"Huh?" 

"Probably best not to call me a god, though." 

Harry didn't get it until he studied the smirk on Severus' face. "Next time I'll call you Merlin--" He laughed, the sensation sharp inside him. 

He probably could have stayed in the same position all night, but not after that laugh. It made him realise that he had a bit of an ache in his bum. He moved to rub it, thinking that perhaps Severus was just a _touch_ too big in the cock department, after all . . . 

"Potion?" asked Severus, matter-of-factly. "I was rather unrestrained, there at the end." 

"Wild," corrected Harry, giving him a mock-stern look. "Say it. _I went wild._ " 

A low laugh, enough to curl Harry's toes, came first, but then Severus did as he'd been asked. "I went wild, yes." 

" _I went wild and howled._ " 

"Yes, you did, rather." 

"You did!" accused Harry, sitting up despite the ache. "Say it!" 

"I went wild and howled." 

"Wow, you're really agreeable. Next time I want something, I'm going to wait until after I bottom for you and--" 

"No," interrupted Severus, suddenly sounding dead serious. "If you want something you can't get for yourself, you know you've only to ask. Don't use sex to get things." 

Harry had only been joking about, but he could see that Severus hadn't taken the comment that way. "I won't," he said, laying a hand across Severus' forearm. "I wouldn't. You're my lover." 

Severus just kept staring down at him, those black eyes unreadable. 

"I sleep with you because I want to, you know that," Harry went on, earnestly. "Because it's fabulous. Oh, come on, Severus. You know I didn't really mean--" 

The corners of Severus' mouth twitched, then curled upwards in clear humour. "I thought not, but it was worthwhile to see how long you would continue with the compliments." 

Harry threw a pillow at him, which Severus deftly caught and placed back on the bed. "You never did say if you'd like a potion." 

"No, no, it's fine." Harry stretched and then pulled the covers up to his waist and he settled back against the pillows. "I can feel we did it, is all. And you know . . . that's all right. It really is. I'm surprised you haven't mentioned that I came. I mean, _during_ , finally." 

"Does it need mentioning?" 

Harry laughed. "No. I guess that speaks for itself. Come on, lie down. I'm knackered and I want some sleep." 

"I can't imagine why," murmured Severus as he pulled Harry up against him. 

"'Cause sex with you is brilliant--" Harry yawned, snuggling his cheek against Severus' shoulder. "Mmm. G'night." 

He thought Severus probably replied, but whatever the man said was lost in the haze of exhaustion sweeping over Harry. Good exhaustion. Like none he'd ever felt before, really. He was tired from head to toe, cock included, but it all felt right, somehow. 

Harry smiled, no more thought in him as he let sleep waft him away. 

  
  
  
  



	47. Chapter 47

 

 

 

 

 

 

** Sunday, December 27, 1998 ---- 6:01 a.m. **

Severus was abruptly jolted out of a sound sleep when the mattress beneath him shifted. Rolling over, he reached for Harry but encountered only empty air. 

Snapping his eyes open, he sat upright and surveyed the room. When he saw Harry beside him, sitting up, Severus relaxed. 

"Problem?" 

Harry shook his head. "I don't know why I didn't think of this last night--knackered, most likely--but . . . er, I suppose our powers will be fully crossed now, . . . you think?" 

The question cast Severus' mind back to the night before. Harry bottoming for him, at last. _Truly bottoming . . ._ Severus barely counted those times when Harry had gone through the motions, trying to find some way to enjoy the experience. 

No, as far as he was concerned, the previous night had been the true beginning to a full sexual relationship. The kind he'd wanted all along. Partners. Bond-mates, each of them pleasing the other. The thought alone had his cock swelling a bit. 

But now probably wasn't the time. 

"Are you sore?" Severus gestured with his hand to indicate Harry's lower body. 

Harry gave him a glance that looked slightly annoyed. "Just a tad. I can deal with it, you know. It's not like . . . never mind." 

"It's not like you're a girl?" Severus was sorry to hear they were back to that, but at least this time, Harry had stopped himself from actually voicing his thought. And really, perhaps it was time to put that idea to rest, once and for all. "I remember your climax last night, Harry. _Showering_ us, almost. If anything is certain, it's that you're not like a girl. Not at all." 

Harry gave him sort of a half-smile, only one side of his mouth curling up. "Yeah, I know. Really, I do, now. I'm not even sure why I started to say that." 

"Old habits of mind." 

"More like echoes or something." Harry's smile grew wider. "I figured something out last night. I mean, something more than just that I can like bottoming." 

"Can?" 

"Do. I do like it." Harry nodded vigorously, as if he was still convincing himself of the fact. Or perhaps it was more like he just still finding it surprising. 

"And this other thing you figured out would be . . . ?" 

Just the barest hint of colour stole across Harry's cheekbones. Not even enough to call it a blush, but Severus noticed it, all the same. He thought then that he was perhaps becoming _too_ observant of small nuances in the other man's mood. 

"Oh. It's just what you said, a while back. Um . . . _two halves of a whole,_ you know that bit?" 

Severus did know it. "Yes. Two men can form two halves of a whole as readily as a man and a woman can." 

"Yeah, that." Harry laughed. "I mean, last night it struck me that . . . I don't know. It was like, top or bottom, it was all good. I mean, all just _sex_ , you know." 

Severus did know. He didn't know what to add, so he just nodded. 

Harry slanted him a glance. "Though I still think you might have offered to let me top a lot sooner. How could you have thought I wouldn't want you?" 

Severus stiffened. He could easily do without going into more discussion on that topic. He wasn't even sure, himself, why he'd waited so long. On the surface, it really did seem daft. 

Particularly considering that he was, and would remain, Harry's only possible choice of sexual partners . . . 

Realising how stiff he probably looked, Severus did his best to shrug off the tension in his neck and shoulders. "Perhaps I didn't like the idea that I would be _letting_ you. I always did have a more mutual concept of making love than that." 

"Yeah." Harry shrugged, too. "I _should_ have said that I wanted to. Oh, well. Water under the bridge, now, I guess. Um . . . it's all good, like I said, but I probably should mention that I think I actually do like topping more." 

There was definitely a thread of insecurity in that last comment, as if Harry wasn't sure that Severus would appreciate the sentiment. 

For his part, Severus just shrugged again. How many times had he told Harry that what was, _was?_ "Don't worry," he said, leaning over to drop a kiss on Harry's lips. "We'll make it work. I told you that." 

"Great." Harry stretched a bit, his chest muscles ripping, then languidly got out of bed, only to stretch again, his arms flung back, his cock swaying as it hung free. Finally, though, he turned to face Severus. "You know, you never did answer my question. About if our powers have crossed all the way?" 

Severus had thought the question rhetorical. To him, the matter was obvious. "I think they must have, yes." 

Harry turned his face away and began to walk across the room. "All right. Let's grab something quick and head over to the Room of Requirement--" 

"I suspect we've reached the Room's limits. It's trying not to allow damage to the castle, but it doesn't quite know what to do with the spells you've been casting." 

Harry paused on his way to the connecting door, his arse cheeks looking even more inviting than usual, now that Severus knew first-hand just how delightful his arse could be. "Yeah, it does seem to have had some trouble accommodating us, lately. But it wouldn't be safe to test my powers anywhere else, would it?" 

Hmm. Severus didn't like the idea of displaying Harry's formidable new powers in the wide open. Even with privacy spells to conceal them, that seemed foolhardy. He frowned, lapsing into thought for a moment. "There are some natural caverns underground to the east of the castle, just beyond the loch. We won't be disturbed there, and it's far enough away that nothing you do should be able to affect the castle." 

Harry looked around the room. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to damage it. Ha, not even the dungeons, which believe me, is sort of a strange thought. For me, at least. You probably can't imagine the number of times I wanted to see the lake break through and flood them." Harry smiled a little, like the memories were fond ones, even if he'd outgrown them. "But couldn't I just fix anything I damaged, anyway?" 

"I think you may find that even with increased powers, destruction is easier to accomplish than repair." 

"Could be . . ." 

"Particularly if the roof has fallen in on top of your head." 

Harry blanched, but then seemed to steel himself. "Oh, I won't be as powerful as all that, will I?" 

Severus dropped his voice to the low, smooth one Harry seemed to appreciate most. "You have no appreciation of just how pleased I was last night, do you?" 

Harry licked his lips, like he was remembering. But then he shook his head, shaking himself out of it. "No, I just meant . . . the _roof_ of the _castle_ collapsing?" 

Walking over to him, Severus grasped him by the forearms. "A power the Dark Lord knows not, Harry. You're going to be something the wizarding world has never seen before." 

The muscles in Harry's throat convulsed. Once, and then twice, before he managed to say, his voice gruff, "I don't want to be _something_ , Severus. All I've ever wanted was to be just . . . just _me_." 

Severus pulled him close. He was a little surprised that Harry wasn't more excited at the prospect of testing their powers again; until now, the other man had almost revelled in his increasing levels of magic. He was obviously finding the prospect of fully-crossed powers rather unnerving, though. And perhaps that made sense, considering the things that Severus had written in that précis. Things about Harry being regarded with extreme fear and suspicion. About him being regarded like another Dark Lord, himself. Or worse. 

Severus moved his hands up and down over Harry's bare back, seeking to offer what reassurance he could. "I won't let you lose yourself, Harry, I promise. And if there's a wave of . . . _panic_ , in the wizarding community, when they realise what sort of power you have at your disposal, well . . . we'll ride it out together." 

Harry leaned against him. "Together, yeah. I guess . . . well, there's nothing else to do, is there? I can't do anything else." 

_I can't have anybody else_ , that was what Severus thought he meant. Part of Severus liked that idea; Merlin knew he had very little use for Harry's friends, whom he found alternately vapid and annoying. What Severus wanted, and what Harry needed, however, were very different things. Or perhaps not, since what Severus wanted most of all was for Harry to be happy with him. Or if not happy . . . at least content. "And you'll have your friends, standing by your side," he said bracingly, moving to embrace Harry a little more closely. 

A puff of breath brushed his skin as Harry sharply exhaled. "Will I? You called them possible exceptions to the general hysteria." 

"Yes, and as I told you more recently, you have much better friends than I realised at first. Those two? They'd stay with you through absolutely anything, no matter what anybody else has to say about it." _And if by chance they don't,_ Severus mentally added, _they'll answer to me._

"Ron and Hermione are great, all right," said Harry, relaxing a little. "Yeah. Well, the _Prophet's_ staffed by nutters, anyway. They've had it in for me before, and I survived." 

_If they do you wrong this time, you can make their roof collapse. Or their entire building disappear. Not to mention them . . ._

Severus didn't voice any such thoughts. Doubtless, they wouldn't help Harry feel any better. 

"All right, I'll get dressed and come back down for breakfast." 

"Why don't I get dressed and join you upstairs for breakfast?" asked Severus, thinking the suggestion a good one. _Two halves of a whole,_ after all, could apply to a great many things besides sex. He'd told Harry once that their relationship wasn't destined to be one of equals, and while that was technically true, it didn't have to rule them. 

It couldn't, not if Harry was going to find his way through the thicket ahead and end up content to live with Severus for the rest of his life. 

Harry looked pleased by the suggestion. Extraordinarily pleased, in fact. "Yeah, great. I'll order us up something special. We should celebrate, really. I mean, even if it takes us a while longer to cross our powers, I know we can do it, now." 

"Yes, something special," echoed Severus, though privately, he thought it quite unlikely that their crossed powers would need more time to mature. Always before, each new level of intimacy had produced a corresponding increase in the strength of Harry's spells. 

And _now_ , after the previous evening, after watching Harry come, after feeling Harry's arse clenching, _milking_ Severus' cock . . . now that he knew what a passionate, enthusiastic partner bottom Harry was going to be for him . . . 

Severus couldn't imagine being any more pleased. 

  
  
  
  


**Sunday, December 27, 1998 ---- 8:22 a.m.**

"Wow," said Harry, blinking a little as he glanced around. "If I didn't know better, I'd think this was a natural formation. Though I guess the torches lighting up as we entered kind of nixes that idea." 

Severus nodded, recalling that he'd had a similar reaction when he'd first seen one of these spacious underground caverns. "Yes. It must have taken impressive magic to construct these." 

"How . . . who . . . ?" 

"Legend has it that the Founders carved them out. For what purpose, no-one really knows." 

Harry raised an eyebrow and gestured back toward the way they'd come. "That door doesn't look a thousand years old." 

"You don't believe that the castle never needs any upkeep, do you?" Severus shrugged, and as a precaution, hopped up to seat himself on a waist-high ledge. "The entrance to the cavern has obviously been improved." 

"Think there's a loo in here too, do you?" asked Harry. He looked a little sweaty. Severus knew what that meant; it wasn't a result of exertion, though the hike to get here had been fairly strenuous. 

"I think you're putting off the inevitable," he said quietly, resting his hands against the folds in his robe. "There's no use pretending, Harry. If you can cast using twice-filled powers now, we might as well know it." 

"Yeah," said Harry thickly. He drew his wand, the motion rather sluggish. "Er . . . what do you suggest, then? I mean, this isn't like the Room, where I could kind of rely on it to correct my . . . excesses." 

Severus didn't like that last word, but he hardly wanted to quibble over it. Besides, Harry had just made an excellent point. No wonder he'd earned all those N.E.W.T.s. 

"You're quite right to realise this isn't like the Room of Requirement. I would say that it's up to you, now, to accommodate your own powers. But that's as it should be, as you're the one who has to live with your increased access to magic--" 

"You lost me," interrupted Harry. "Accommodate them how?" 

"I'm sure you'll learn ways as you go, but to begin with, I'd suggest a shielding spell. Using all the power at your disposal, of course. Theoretically, you should be able to cast one strong enough to block your own subsequent spells." 

"Theoretically," said Harry dryly. 

"Unfortunately, yes." Severus raised his shoulders. 

"Then why couldn't I have done that in the Room?" 

"It might have misunderstood what you were doing. It might have thought _me_ the threat you were shielding against. Actually, it might have thought any number of insane things, given its recent behaviour." 

"Yeah, yeah. I knew that." 

Severus almost asked him why he'd brought it up, in that case. But then, he knew why. Harry was still putting off the inevitable. 

"You're going to be stronger than every legend of Merlin combined," he said, leaning forward. "And it's _going to be all right,_ Harry. Let's just see what you can do, now." 

Nodding, Harry drew in a deep breath and brandished his wand. " _Protego!_ " he incanted, and a shimmering dome expanded from his wand. A shimmering dome that looked no more substantial than a soap bubble. 

"Harry . . ." 

"I know. Wasn't really trying," said Harry, grimacing. "I have to get more into the spirit of the thing. All right, enough goofing about--" 

_Procrastinating,_ Severus thought, but there was way he could have said the word out loud, because Harry had cast _Protego_ again by then, and this time, it looked as though a bubble of thick marble was pouring forth from his wand. 

Harry's teeth were clenched, his arm flung fully out, his stance wide-legged as he moved his wand to and fro, until a thick coating of what looked like marble covered the entire ceiling. Even after Harry stilled his wand, the layer of white stone above them kept growing downward, thickening more each second. The ceiling was now completely obscured, although the walls remained as before, expanses of jagged rock. 

Finally, Harry lowered his wand completely. 

Instantly, enormous columns shot from ceiling to floor. Ten, in all. Perfectly round and smooth, the columns stood like monoliths, holding the stone structure up. 

Severus jerked back in shock. _Merlin's wand . . ._ But that was really the wrong exclamation to ring through his mind, of course. Merlin's wand had nothing on Harry's, these days. 

Leaning back against the granite wall, Severus took in several deep breaths. 

"Winded?" asked Harry, turning smoothly on the ball of one foot. 

His eyes now looked . . . otherworldly, Severus thought. Glowing green like emeralds plucked from a fiery blaze . . . Not that the power had changed them, or any such claptrap. No, Severus was merely dazed from the drain of his power, and Harry had been staring about, obviously fascinated at the impromptu appearance of those columns. 

Hmm. Perhaps construction _would_ come to him as readily as destruction, at that. 

But to vanquish the Dark Lord, destructive power was definitely in order. 

"No, no, merely a bit stunned," said Severus, finally gaining his breath. He was still dizzy, but thought it probably didn't show on the outside. "Well. I think that lays your questions to rest, at least." 

"To rest?" Harry gave a dry laugh. "Dead and buried, more like. I wish I couldn't imagine what the press is going to say. Or for how damned _long_ they're going to keep harping on it." 

"They might know better than to cross you, this time." 

"Oh, _that'll_ be the day--" 

Severus truly did wish Harry would be less anxious about the matter, but he knew better than to tell him how to talk. That never had gone over very well. "Perhaps you should see what else you can do," he tried by way of distraction. 

"Yeah. Temple-building probably isn't going to come in very useful." Harry glanced back at him. "You're all right, though? Tell me the truth. That didn't drain you worse than usual?" 

Severus wasn't about to dwell on it. "I can't quantify it so precisely." 

Harry shot him an irritated look, but then appeared to dismiss the matter. "Uh . . . _Aguamenti!_ " 

A blast of water suddenly shot from his wand, the stream surging all the way across the cavern and hitting the opposite wall with such force that it began tunnelling through solid granite. Harry himself should have been thrown backwards with equal force, but like a champion duellist, he remained with feet planted, moving the wand as easily as though he were casting a mere cheering charm. 

And then, the water began snapping on and off, vanishing and reappearing as Harry continued to wave his wand about. 

Severus slumped, his head spinning as he felt his powers abruptly draining from him, over and over, but thanks to the wall behind him, he managed to stay upright. 

Or close to it. 

Harry finally lowered his wand. "What do you think?" 

That was when Severus saw what Harry had wrought in the wall. Not just holes, but holes that formed a vaguely recognisable shape. Something like a lion. Or perhaps a dragon? 

Severus only realised he was squinting at it, trying to decide, when Harry's voice came again. "Yeah, well, you try drawing with watering spells, and see what you get. Besides the opportunity to stand about in a lake, that is." 

Without being prompted, then, Harry swept his wand through the air in one smooth motion, casting a drying charm all about. 

And just as he always said, it _did_ make his hair stick up, even though in this case, it wasn't wet. In fact, it made his hair stick straight up as though someone was yanking on it, but it fell back down to its usual muss in a few seconds. 

Meanwhile, the air became clogged with vapour from the rapidly drying water. Steam--though it was cool--billowed upward in great thick clouds all around them. Severus had never seen anything like it. 

Harry, he thought with something approaching awe, could probably drain the loch itself if he had a mind to. 

"All right, enough of that," sighed Harry when the rock floor showed no more trace of puddling water. "Time for combat spells, I suppose. _Reducto!_ "  
  
He pointed his wand at the ceiling as he cast the spell. 

Severus realised what was happening almost at once. A low roar began to echo through the chamber, but the noise quickly became deafening. It was the sound of a primal force being unleashed. 

The sound of a thousand tonnes of rock--or more, perhaps--crashing down, all at once. 

Ignoring the weak, trembling feeling coursing through his limbs, Severus jumped down off the ledge and staggered across the cavern to Harry. "We've got to get out of here! Come on!" 

He didn't stop to hear what Harry had to say, but began pulling him across the room toward the door. Not that Harry was resisting. After that first tug on his robes, he began running alongside Severus. 

The roar in Severus' ears seemed to get louder with every step they took. 

Harry flung out his arm to open the door with a nonverbal spell, and it hurled itself off its own hinges to lay crosswise across the tunnel in front of them. Severus almost tripped in that instant in which he felt his powers drawn out for Harry's use, but Harry had _him_ by then, by the arm, and hauled him back upright so they could keep running. 

Through the open doorway, into the tunnel, clambering over the destroyed door and then running again, all the way to the far end of the passageway. 

The roar had stopped by then, which perhaps explained why Harry opened the next door in the usual way. 

They stepped out into the cold sunshine of a field nestled between two rolling hills, and as the door closed behind them, it vanished. 

Harry blinked, looking all around them. "Huh. Seems like everything is still normal out here, really. The entrance hidden again . . . " He suddenly whirled to face Severus. "Any reason why we didn't just Apparate out, once it was clear that cavern was collapsing?" 

"I wasn't certain I'd be able to." 

"Oh, right. I'd just been siphoning off your power, right." 

"Besides, your _Protego_ was quite something. It might have prevented anyone but you from Apparating." 

Harry gave a brief nod. "I guess I could have side-alonged you, then. Using . . . er, twice-filled Apparition, or something. Though that might be risky if we hadn't practiced it in advance." 

Severus felt his lips curl in a wry smile. "Sometimes, the simplest thing to do is run." 

Harry laughed. "Well, we sure did that. I was winded for a second, but I'm all right now. How about you? See, I'd like to climb to the top of that hill." He pointed. "And see if anything looks different from there." 

Drawing his wand, Severus conjured a goblet and held it out. "Perhaps a spot of water, first." His nostrils flared. "A reasonable amount." 

"Hey, I can control the force of my spells," said Harry, a little indignant. Resting the tip of his wand over the edge of the goblet, Harry murmured the spell. Water began to trickle out. "No problem." 

Once Severus' thirst was quenched, he felt much better. He began to follow Harry up the hillside. Halfway up, Harry stopped to look at him. "We never have worked on improving my Apparition, like you mentioned once. But with twice-filled powers, do you think I could go all the way across Britain? Or overseas, even?" 

"Probably." Severus knew what Harry was likely thinking, of course. Disneyland. Or world . . . whichever one was in Florida. "It's not advisable to Apparate to a place you've never been, before, however. Unless you're travelling with someone who has been there." 

"Yeah, yeah, I remember the lessons we got on that." Harry started climbing again, not stopping until he reached the crest of the hill. A moment later, Severus joined him. Together, they surveyed the countryside all around. 

Finally, Harry turned to him. "I can't tell where the cavern's located, really." 

Severus pointed at a series of gently rolling hills below them to the left. 

"They don't look disturbed, at all," said Harry, puzzlement making his voice lilt. 

He hadn't yet realised, thought Severus. "Your shield is still holding strong." 

"Holding up _all_ that rock we heard falling on it?" Harry shook his head. "That can't be it. Nothing could stand up against . . ." 

He didn't believe it because he didn't want to, Severus sensed. But there was no point in flinching from the truth. "Remove your _Protego_ and see what happens," he advised, keeping his voice calm with effort. Despite his insistence that what was, _was,_ Severus was a little apprehensive, himself, to see what Harry had wrought. 

Swallowing, Harry fished out his wand and pointed it in the direction Severus had indicated. _"Finite Incantatem!_ " he shouted against the wind that had suddenly kicked up. 

Severus felt a wave of dizziness coursing over him, but as it was a feeling he was growing used to--no choice about that--he managed to stay on his feet. Closing his eyes seemed to help. 

When the feeling passed, he opened them to see Harry standing as though struck dumb. Open-mouthed, even. The younger man didn't say a word. Instead, he weakly gestured. 

Severus followed his line of sight and almost started. Where the moment before there had been gentle sloping hills, now there was a huge, sunken crater. Quite clearly, Harry's _Reducto_ had utterly destroyed the cavern, and only his shielding spell had kept them from knowing about it sooner. 

"I didn't mean to ruin the landscape," said Harry after a moment. "I . . . this is very strange, you know? I was really looking forward to being this powerful. I'm _supposed_ to. It's what I get out of this deal, after all. But all I wanted was enough that nobody could mess with me again, you know? I wasn't expecting . . . _this_." 

"You haven't ruined the landscape," said Severus. 

"Oh, _sure._ Scotland's dotted with craters, after all--" 

"No, look. Do you see?" 

Harry leaned forward a bit, peering down into the crater. "What _is_ that? Er . . . water?" 

"It looks as though an underground river has been opened up." Severus shrugged. "A new lake is forming. Give it a few hours and the landscape will look entirely natural, again." 

Harry didn't look mollified. "I still think people are going to notice a change like this." 

"Eventually. The hills here aren't very well-known." 

"Yeah, anti-Muggle charms and all," said Harry, clearly morose. 

Severus sighed. "Why aren't you happier? You said it yourself, that _this_ is your reward for agreeing to the bond. I know you're dreading the publicity that may result when all is known, but surely you can wait until it actually happens to make yourself miserable?" 

Harry grimaced. "Maybe I'd be happier if you hadn't killed Bole and Talmadge for me. I mean, just before we invoked, I was thinking about them a lot. About what I was going to do to them, once our powers had crossed." His features, normally so handsome, took on an ugly cast as his lips twisted and his eyebrows drew tightly together. "I wouldn't feel the slightest bit bad about turning this power against them, believe me. I'd like to see a twice-filled _Sectumsempra._ I'd _enjoy_ it. And you took that from me." 

He didn't sound angry, exactly, but neither was he resigned. His gaze, when he turned it on Severus, was flashing with annoyance. 

Severus took a step back so he could think. He'd never given much thought to the idea that Harry might have liked to kill Bole and Talmadge, himself. At the time, he'd seemed distraught that he'd to have killed Bellatrix, and _that_ had clearly been done in self-defence. Cold-blooded murder was something else. Severus didn't shrink from it, when circumstances warranted drastic action, but Harry wasn't Severus. 

Wasn't anything like Severus, in a great many ways. 

"I bound myself to give you whatever you needed," he said quietly, crossing his arms in front of him. "At the time, it seemed to me that what you needed most was the knowledge that they had paid dearly for what they did to you, and that they could never threaten you again." 

The breeze lifted Harry's fringe, making him appear a lot more carefree than he was. Than he'd ever been, Severus slowly realised. His whole life had been shadowed by the Dark Lord, one way or another. 

"I . . . yeah, I know," said Harry, sighing. "I did appreciate it at the time, really. I liked knowing that they were dead, that they couldn't ever hurt anyone again." 

"And too, I thought what you needed least was the pair of them spreading tales of what they'd done." 

"Another one of my nightmares, yeah." Harry made an obvious effort to smile. "Don't mind me, Severus. I don't know why I'm not happier. I mean, things really are working themselves out. We've got the sex thing solved, and I've got more power than _him_ , I bet, and well . . . all that remains, really, is to finish this. Finish _him_." Harry waved his wand as though considering the matter, but he didn't cast anything. "How do you think I do it, then? Probably it's time we discuss that, you think? And how do I find him?" 

"If he runs true to form, he'll find _you_ ," said Severus dryly. 

"That only happens around May or June each year. With the way he's still attacking Muggleborns every so often, I'd rather not wait." 

"Why do you think he's launching so many attacks?" 

"Dunno. He's gone mad? He's always been a sick, cowardly arsehole? Why do _you_ think he's doing it?" 

This was precisely the reason why Severus had wanted to continue spying. If he were in the Dark Lord's inner circle, still, he'd know what sort of strategy these attacks represented. Better yet, he'd know where the Dark Lord would attack next. He'd be able to position Harry to intercept him. He'd be best able to employ the strategy of surprise . . . 

But all that was out of reach, and Severus was left with nothing more than guesses. 

"He might be trying to draw you out." Severus nodded, the idea making sense to the more he thought on it. "Think of it from his point of view. You're an adult now, which would normally mean you're coming into your full powers in any case. And you've chosen to stay on at Hogwarts? Why? He must believe that it's in order to receive private tutelage from Albus Dumbledore, himself." 

"Yeah, my job sort of makes it look that way, too. I mean, I didn't take some position that had become vacant. A new job was dreamed up just for me, right? It does sort of look like a cover story. Only _he_ doesn't know that it's covering _Cambiare Podentes._ " 

"But he _does_ know that your powers have been altered. He sensed that much early on, and summoned me to explain," added Severus. 

"Which you didn't. Don't think I ever said _thanks--_ " 

"I held my tongue--and my thoughts in check--for my own sake as much as yours." 

"Not one to blow your own horn, are you?" 

Severus ignored that. Harry's tendency to see heroic motives in others wasn't likely to change. "We may never know for certain what has motivated the Dark Lord's actions in the past six months, but I would guess that after sensing the change in your magic, he withdrew to consider the matter. Prior to that, his minions had been allowed, or perhaps even instructed, to wreak havoc in Muggle areas, which would account for the Tower Bridge attack. For a time, however, the Dark Lord ceased all such activities and sought through other means to discover the cause of your 'great change.' No doubt he was hoping there would be a hex or curse that would negate it. When this quest ultimately proved unsuccessful, he began these attacks, thinking it best to draw you out before Albus had enough time to mold you into a wizard of his own great strengths." 

Harry sat down on the hilltop and began to pull out tufts of grass as he spoke. "Well, that would explain why he seemed to do nothing at first and then so much lately. But you're right. I don't think we'll ever know it all. And what does it matter? All I want to know, really, is what I do now. Wait for him to draw me out? How would that work? Most of the time, we don't hear about his attacks until they're already over!" 

Severus tried to let very little reaction to that show, but Harry knew him too well. 

"Oh. Dear God . . . you don't mean . . ." Harry planted his palms on the ground, and leaned forward, though he waited to speak until Severus had sat down facing him. "The Order knows before it hits the Wizarding Wireless. Before the Aurors, even?" 

"No, not before them, usually. We're getting our best information from Order Aurors, after all." 

"But _I_ haven't been told, not while any attacks are still going on!" 

"Because there was nothing you could have done, except get yourself killed!" 

"No wonder you didn't want me to join the Order!" 

Severus gnashed his teeth. "You agreed with that decision." 

"I agreed _to_ it, you mean!" With that, Harry turned his face away. 

"Harry." Severus waited until the other man looked at him again. "What would you have done, really? You're ready to face him, now. But you weren't, then." 

"I'd . . . I'd've . . ." 

"Relied on the same kind of sheer luck that's pulled you through before?" Severus shook his head. "You know I'm right." 

"Yeah, yeah, I do know," said Harry, but he was scowling. "I guess what steams me most is the secrecy. You don't think I was mature enough to stay put? To wait until our powers had crossed and I stood a real chance?" 

"That wasn't it." Severus lifted his shoulders. "I didn't see the point in tormenting you. It would have been nothing less than sheer cruelty to force you to agonize over each attack while it was in progress, while you were forced to sit idly by. _All_ that would have accomplished would have been to push you into having sex before you were truly prepared to." 

"A conversation we've had before," said Harry, very dryly. "Well, I still don't think you should have kept all that from me." 

"I didn't. I wasn't informed, myself, of anything while it was ongoing." 

"Because then, you couldn't tell me!" 

" _No_. It was more because my own participation in the Order has been rather limited, lately. Or have you seen me rushing off to meetings, now and again?" 

"Your job is helping me cross powers, not any of the other. Right." 

"And only Albus knows it. Or rather, Albus and half the Weasleys," said Severus with a fair measure of disdain. Things were supposed to have remained a good deal more secret. "Everyone else believes, I suspect, that I've been sulking ever since Albus took me off spying duties." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How did he explain doing that, though?" 

Now it was Severus' turn to scowl. "When I asked him that, he said, _Severus, my boy, you'd rather not know._ " 

It wasn't funny, though Harry seemed to find it so. He chuckled. "I wonder what he said." 

"There's no telling. Albus can be more devious than you realise." 

Harry's lips turned down. "You think I don't know that? When I think of coming here as a first-year, so _innocent . . ._ I'd never have believed that the headmaster would agree to see me enslaved to you. Or anyone. But that's a child's view of the world, I suppose. And I thought I'd stepped into a faerie tale, you know. Real life . . . it's a lot more complicated." 

Severus didn't like the faerie tale allusion. He doubted that Harry saw himself as a helpless princess in a tower, but he probably _did_ look at Severus as the frog the princess was forced to kiss. No matter that Severus had tried his best to make enslavement pleasant, or at the very least, palatable. It wasn't Harry's choice, and that meant that Severus would always remain a frog. 

Well, at least he was a frog with a delectable arse, he thought. Harry did want him, on a sexual level if not any other. It would have to be enough. 

"I'll ask Albus to alert us at once the next time the Dark Lord attacks." 

"And that's it? I go to wherever he is, and kill him?" Harry rose to his feet. " _Avada Kedavra,_ you think? Or should I try _Reducio_ and make him the size of a dust mite, and then blast him with _Reducto,_ or . . ." 

"It would help if we knew why he appears to be immune to death." Severus stood up, too. "But we don't know. For the moment, I think the best thing we can do is improve your Apparition, as you mentioned. When the time is right, you need to be able to go wherever he is, without losing the advantage of surprise." 

"Yeah, right. Good," said Harry. "Well, there's this big rock way out in the ocean . . . Dursleys dragged me out there when they were on the run from my Hogwarts' letters. I'll try to go out there, just to see if I can. But with twice-filled powers I bet it'll be no trouble at all." 

"I expect you're right." Severus took Harry's arm. "But take your broom along, just in case. Unless you'd prefer to swim." 

Harry smiled, then glanced down the hillside at the crater he'd created. It was now about a third filled with water. "I'm going to swim in that, someday. But for now, flying sounds better. Let's Apparate back to the castle grounds . . . oh, wait. You think I can Apparate right into the dungeons? Twice-filled powers are probably stronger than the wards!" 

It was good to see Harry a little enthusiastic, finally. "I think you can, but you might damage the wards. Or the castle." 

"Yeah, no more using crossed powers at full strength, not inside the castle. Apparating in would count. All right." Harry smiled. "But you should let me side-along you to the boundary. With crossed powers, to see how it works. And then I'll summon my broom out, and be on my way. Unless . . . you want to come along? To the rock, as well? Just in, you know, just in case?" 

Harry hadn't yet realised the kind of power he had at his disposal. He _knew_ , but that knowledge wasn't really a part of him, yet. "You're more than competent to defend yourself," said Severus, pressing his fingers into Harry's skin. "In fact, no one could possibly be more competent. You've achieved your goal." 

"Not until he's dead." Harry's gaze snapped up. "You . . . er, you don't think distance matters at all? You think I can draw power off you, and use it, no matter where I am?" 

Severus was certain of it. That was the point of _Cambiare Podentes,_ after all. To provide the weaker wizard guaranteed power to defend himself, in any and all circumstances. Not that Harry was any sort of weaker wizard. 

He never had been. 

"I'll stay behind, so you can try a few spells to make certain, when you're at this rock," Severus advised. Harry had always responded better to practice than to theory. Well, except when it came to brewing. "And then you'll have no doubt that distance makes no difference." 

"All right." Harry grinned. "Hang on--" 

With no more warning that that, he Apparated them both to the edge of the castle's grounds. And he did it with crossed powers. 

"Wow," said Harry, bouncing on his heels. "That was . . . wow. Almost better than sex, no offense. No more squishing through a tube . . . that was more like . . . er, a bullet shooting out of a gun? Amazing." 

For Severus, the experience had resembled being shredded from the inside out, only without the pain one might expect. Thoroughly unpleasant, all the same. He didn't want to discourage Harry, though, so he said nothing. 

Most likely, Harry could side-along anyone else without it being dreadful in the least. For Severus, though, who was losing power even as he was pulled from one location to another . . . well, he could endure it, but he'd certainly never choose to travel that way if he could avoid it. 

_"Accio_ Firebolt!" shouted Harry, sweeping his wand in a broad arc. 

It came flying to him, but with no more velocity than during the Tournament. That was frankly a relief to Severus. Most men Harry's age would start indulging crossed powers a good deal more than they needed to, for the sheer novelty of it, if nothing else. 

The thought must have shown on his face. 

"I thought I'd better not," said Harry, shrugging. "Since you're looking a little green." 

"I most certainly do not!" 

"Yeah, you do." Harry clapped him on the shoulder as he tucked his broomstick inside his robe. "Maybe now you know how I feel about the Floo. You go have a lie-down--" 

"I have student papers to mark, I'll have you know." 

"Well, take it easy, either way. I'll see you later!" 

"Wait--" Severus said, but it was too late. Harry had Apparated away. A brilliant burst of light flashed as he vanished with the force of a thunderclap. Severus gasped; that time, it had felt like his magic was being sucked out through the top of his skull. Rather disorienting, that. 

But it only lasted a moment. 

Severus shook his head. He'd wanted to caution Harry to go to this _rock_ but nowhere else. It wouldn't do for him to be caught out alone. If he ran into Death Eaters, he'd probably reduce them to dust on the spot, and then the Dark Lord would hear of it, and-- 

But Harry hadn't waited for advice. 

Severus started walking up to the castle. There was nothing else to do. _He_ couldn't follow where Harry had gone. 

He would just have to trust Harry to use good judgment. 

And in the meantime, he would go to the headmaster's office and report on these developments. 

His report, as it turned out, was somewhat redundant. Albus already knew about the new lake. 

  
  
  
  



	48. Chapter 48

 

 

  
  
  
  
**Monday, December 28, 1998 ---- 9:05 a.m.**

"Still feels odd not to be rushing off to classes," murmured Harry as he spread more butter on his toasted crumpet. 

"Definitely, a first-year teacher." 

"Assistant." Harry ate the crumpet in two bites, and reached for another. Odd how _hungry_ he'd been the last couple of days, but perhaps that was an effect of crossing their powers. Well, at least he wasn't tired after casting such powerful spells. Not in the least! He'd Apparated all the way out to the rock without any trouble, and since he'd been alone out there, he'd tried out a few more defensive spells. Offensive ones, too. Blasting curses, mostly. Very satisfying, those. It had been a pleasure to wipe away every trace of the lone building on the little island. Might as well, really. The door had still been knocked down from when Hagrid had banged his way in. 

But destroying a building, or even a cavern, was a far cry from defeating Voldemort, once and for all. "Er . . . do you suppose I ought to start practicing the kinds of spells I'm going to need? I mean, to kill him?" 

" _Avada Kedavra,_ I presume you mean?" Severus set his fork down. "Whom do you propose to kill?" 

He supposed he should have expected a question like that. Severus wasn't one to beat around the bush, usually. "I wouldn't have minded starting with Bole and Talmadge," he said levelly. He could have said more on that topic. A lot more, but he didn't want to get into that issue again. 

"Yes, well, they're not an option," Severus said, his tones clipped. "Any other ideas?" 

"Oh, for God's sake." Harry spooned another couple of eggs onto his plate. "I wasn't suggesting I practice on a _person_ , you know. Though I wouldn't mind killing Lucius Malfoy. Or that little worm of a son of his. But anything like _that_ would tip off Vol-- the Dark-- oh, fuck it, _Voldemort_ , that we have plans for him, right? So I'll just start with earthworms or something." 

"You can't train for the Killing Curse using anything but human beings. It simply doesn't transfer." 

"Hah. Moody . . . I mean Crouch's son, killed a spider right in front of us--" 

"He didn't start with them, though. To master the curse in the first place, you have to kill a person." 

Ugh. So that was no good, then. 

"Well, I have to come up with something!" Harry shouted. Suddenly, his efforts out on the rock just seemed pathetic. "I don't think that marble columns and pillars of fire are going to do it!" 

" _Cambiare_ is the key. You have what you need. Anticipating in advance what spell you might use . . . practise all you wish, Harry. It certainly can't hurt. But duelling is unpredictable, by its very nature. You aren't going to know which spell will prove his undoing. All you can know is that whatever it is, _you have it in you,_ now that you can cast with both our powers at once." 

"Both our powers squared, you mean," said Harry, remembering the things he could do with magic, now. Maybe that _would_ be enough. Maybe he wouldn't even need the Killing Curse, though it was pretty hard to imagine that _Rictusempra_ was going to do the job. Voldemort deserved worse than to laugh himself to death. 

All right, duelling. Unless Harry could sneak up on Voldemort, that was. But that was unlikely, so Harry concentrated on what he'd learned over the years about wizards squaring off to fight. The duellist's aim was to either incapacitate or disarm his opponent, but Harry didn't put much faith in even a twice-filled _Expelliarmus._ He could probably make Voldemort's wand rush to him no matter _how_ it was warded, but what good was that? Voldemort, curse his black soul, would counter that somehow. Or worse, before Harry even got a single summoning charm out, Voldemort would start in with wordless magic, so that Harry would never even know what had hit him. 

"I didn't stand a chance in that cemetery," he suddenly blurted, feeling swamped by the enormity of the task facing him. Actually, it felt a lot like his head had gone underwater. Hard to breathe. "I'd have been a goner if not for my parents. Oh, and the fact that there just happened to be a Portkey lying nearby. I mean, it was practically scripted for me to be able to escape--" 

Severus abruptly took his hands and squeezed. "Of course you needed help. You weren't even a grown wizard, yet. But you are, now. And what's more, you have a power the Dark Lord knows not. _My_ power, Harry." 

Harry scoffed. "Oh, like he doesn't know _that_. Intimately. I remember, what you told me--" 

"He never knew _me_ at all," interrupted Severus. 

Yeah, that much was true enough, so Harry nodded, and tried to stop worrying. _Cambiare is the key_ . . . he should probably start leaning on that. It wasn't a crutch, not really. God knew he'd sacrificed enough to make _Cambiare_ work. Himself. His ideas _about_ himself. Hell, his whole concept of what he was and what he wanted. 

Not to mention all the sex. 

It wasn't a burden, now--far from it--but Harry felt like he'd had to walk through fire to find that out. And if not for _Cambiare_ , he'd never have bothered. 

Of course, if not for _Cambiare_ , he'd never have stayed on in London like that . . . but no, that wasn't really true. He definitely would have taken the Express away from Hogwarts, and once he got off at King's Cross, there sure wouldn't have been any Uncle Vernon to meet him. Harry might very well have decided to celebrate the end of his education by doing a few days' sightseeing. Of course, he wouldn't have stopped at Blackwell's to have a look at the _human sexuality section,_ as Hermione had put it. But what did that matter? Harry still might have gone wandering onto the Tower Bridge later that same day, might have been caught up in the attack, spotted by Bellatrix . . . 

Might have, might have . . . what good was any of it, really? Life wasn't made up of _might-haves_. It was made up of what _was._

"I just wish I knew when the next attack was coming," he finally said, feeling almost sick with anxiety. So much for not worrying. "Maybe I should stop Occluding. Just for a little while, just until I get a sense of what he's thinking." 

"And if he gets a sense of what _you're_ thinking?" 

"Element of surprise, yeah," said Harry. He wondered for a moment if the answer _did_ lie in Occlumency, all the same. Could he try something strange, like twice-filled Occlumency? Maybe he could make Voldemort's brain explode. 

But that sounded a lot more like Legilimency, really, which Harry had never learned. 

There had to be something, though. _Anything._

Because if one more innocent person died, now that Harry _did_ have the means to prevent it . . . how was he going to bear knowing that he'd let that happen? That he'd done nothing to force a confrontation? That he'd waited for Voldemort to make the next move, and someone had died as a result? 

What if that someone was a child? _Another_ child, that was? How could Harry stand it? How could he live with himself, afterwards? 

The answer to that was simple: he couldn't. This wasn't like Cedric, which had happened so fast that he hadn't really even known what was going on. And it wasn't like Sirius, was it? He'd only been a boy, then. He was a man, now. A man with magical powers nobody else had ever possessed. A man who had to put a stop to this, _now._

And that left him with a single option, didn't it? The only option, really. 

Harry felt like his mind had suddenly cleared. Like the sun had come out after a terrible storm. The moment before, his thoughts had been jammed up with dozens of different ideas, none of them very good. He'd almost been drowning in them. But no more. Now, he knew what he had to do. 

"What if we bait a trap?" asked Harry, looking up. "You know, to lure him in?" 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "That goes back to my earlier question. Whom do you propose to use as bait?" 

Harry almost winced, because he could tell already that his idea wasn't going to go over so well. "Um . . . well . . . me, of course." 

Severus hands tightened again, until Harry was pretty sure his fingers were going to end up bruised. "You aren't using yourself as bait." 

Harry tried for a practical tone of voice. "But who else is there? I'm the only one with twice-filled powers. Anybody else might get killed." 

" _You_ might get killed." 

Harry started to get angry, then, because after what Severus had just said a few minutes earlier, _that_ was a bit hard to take. "What happened to _you have whatever you need,_ eh? What happened to _Cambiare is the key?_ " 

"Yes, well there's such a thing as being too fatalistic--" 

"Be reasonable!" 

Severus suddenly let go of his hands, but at the same time, he bared his teeth. "Persist in this idea, and you'll see just how _unreasonable_ I can become!" 

"Oh, great. That's it, threaten me with fucking _Compulsio_ again--" 

"I wasn't!" roared Severus. "But don't think I won't, if that's what it takes!" 

It was difficult not to reply to _that_ , but Harry did his best to keep the conversation on target. "Look, you said yourself that he was trying to lure me into showing myself. Well, I don't want anybody else to have to die. He'll come to _me_ if I just put myself out there, seemingly unprotected, and--" 

"And we'll lose the advantage of surprise. Our entire strategy has been based on it, Harry! If you _put yourself out there,_ as you put it, you'll be allowing the Dark Lord to choose his moment, gather his forces--" 

"And I'll wipe them all away. Crossed powers, remember?" 

Severus actually rolled his eyes, then. "Haven't you ever heard of hubris? Quite a few heroes of old--wizards, many of them--came to a messy end because they overestimated themselves." 

"They weren't powerful the way I am!" 

"They weren't, no," admitted Severus, sighing. "But even you aren't so powerful that you should disregard tactics entirely, Harry." 

"Fine," snapped Harry. He was tired of arguing. No point in it, really. He wasn't going to persuade Severus, and Severus sure wasn't going to persuade _him_. "I'll just sit here doing nothing useful. Now _there's_ a brilliant plan." 

All right, so perhaps he wasn't quite through arguing, yet. 

"You've only just achieved your full potential under _Podentes_ ," said Severus, his voice sounding heavy. "We need time, Harry. Time to consider the best course of action." 

Harry didn't agree, but he didn't say that, because by then, he had decided on his own course of action. He knew exactly what he needed to do next, but he couldn't get started until Severus was out of the way. "Yeah, well let's not take too long figuring it out," he said, his voice stiff. "Maybe you should go brew something. Isn't that when you do your best thinking?" 

Severus gave him a close look. "And what are you going to do?" 

Harry abruptly decided that his _Firebolt_ would figure into his plan, one way or another. "Some flying, I suppose. That helps me think." 

A ghost of a smile flitted across Severus' features. "You're certain you aren't plotting something?" 

"Me?" Harry deliberately laughed. " A Gryffindor?" 

"One who was almost sorted into Slytherin." 

"Well, I'd have been shoved right into your nest of vipers if I really belonged there," retorted Harry. Ha, no headache. Which proved, didn't it, that he really _didn't_ belong in Slytherin. Or at least it proved that Harry thought that. "Severus . . . I need to think, all right?" 

No searing headache for that comment either, because after all, it was true. He _did_ need to think. 

Harry saw Severus pause a moment. Was he waiting for that tingling feeling, or surge of energy, or whatever it was he got whenever Harry lied? Harry didn't know. 

At any rate, the man finally nodded. "I do have some things to work on, yes. Go flying on the pitch if you like, but don't leave Hogwarts' grounds without talking to me. We've come too far to make a mistake, now. We must be careful." 

_We?_ Ha. Harry was the one who had to fight the final battle. _Harry_ was the one who had to live in enslavement, forever afterwards. They might be in this together in a lot of ways, but in some essential ones, Harry was alone. 

All alone. 

He just nodded, bracing himself in case that produced a headache, but it seemed that only verbal lies would cue the mind bond. Good thing. 

"I'm going to practice a little, too," said Harry. "Twice-filled spells. Just warning you." 

"Here?" 

"Mild ones. I do have very good control. You should have seen me out at the rock. You might get a little dizzy now and again, though." 

"If you're sure you know what you're doing." 

Harry tried not to look too grim. No point in giving the game away, after all. Especially since he'd been given such a good opportunity to tell the pure, honest truth. "Oh, I know what I'm doing, all right." 

The moment Severus had vanished down the hallway, Harry made his way over to the trunk that held the Marauder's Map. Not too much use, unless Voldemort was going to invade Hogwarts. No, Harry wanted the other thing that had been squirreled away in the trunk, months ago. 

His invisibility cloak. 

Or rather, _Severus'_ invisibility cloak, but it was Harry's to use, right? With permission. Which he didn't have, but he could deal with that later. Right now, all that mattered was getting within range of Voldemort so he could kill him and be done with all this. The cloak would give him the kind of strategic advantage Severus seemed to think Harry had no idea about. 

Lure Voldemort in, then whip on the cloak when Harry was sure he was coming. Strike with surprise, after all. 

Of course, if Death Eaters came to get him, instead of Voldemort himself, Harry would have to re-think his plan. But he'd always been pretty good at thinking on his feet. 

Brandishing his wand, Harry pulled Severus' powers into himself, just enough to be sure this would work. The moment he was certain he had enough magic to force the issue, he cancelled the alarm spells Severus had placed on the trunk. 

Then he popped open the trunk itself, and gathered the invisibility cloak into his hands. It fell between his fingers like thinnest silk, reminding him of that magical first day when he'd first laid eyes on it. Christmas . . . 

It seemed so _long_ ago. And the memory of himself . . . he'd been such a child. 

No longer, though. He was an adult, now. A full adult, in every way. He had only to think of himself in bed with Severus to have _that_ brought fully home. 

Harry smiled, a little bit grimly. As good as sex was, now, it was still overshadowed by the knowledge that he _had_ to do it. That his mission in life was to do it, so that in return, he could access Severus' powers and hurl them at Voldemort. It would be nice, later, to be free of that. 

Of course, he would never be _free_ in the strictest sense of the word, but at least he would be free from knowing that the fate of the world rested on his shoulders. 

Or more accurately, on his arse. 

Harry wrapped the cloak around his shoulders until just his head showed, and started pondering just where he could show his face, so to speak, in order to catch Voldemort's attention. 

" _Accio_ invisibility cloak!" 

Harry tried to grab the cloak as it began to slide from his shoulders, but Severus' summoning charm was too strong for that to do much good. 

Silence filled the room after that, broken only by the harsh sound of Severus' breathing, until Harry finally turned to look at him. 

The other man's expression was tight. Almost skeletal, skin stretched taut over cheekbones. Skin that was oddly splotchy instead of its usual pale colour. 

Severus looked _furious_. Even more so than over the Dragon's Happy, and that was really saying something. 

" _What_ ," he finally hissed, "did you think you were doing?" 

_I was just looking at it . . ._ Harry had enough presence of mind to leave the lie unsaid. Instead, he took refuge in anger of his own. "I was planning some strategy, if you must know!" 

"Oh, yes," said Severus scornfully. "You're so _good_ at that, too. So much so that you forgot I'd warded the trunk so I'd know if you started in on any daft ideas." 

"I _Finite'd_ the alarm spells--" 

"Forgetting that you _can't do magic_ I disapprove of!" 

Harry stilled. His _Finite_ had failed? Well, that explained how Severus had known what Harry was up to. All told, it hardly helped Harry feel any better about the whole thing. And being informed that he was stupid definitely didn't help. "I didn't forget! I figured my new powers would make hash of your stupid restrictions!" 

"They aren't your powers." Severus' eyes glittered. "They're _mine_ , and you can't use them against me. This is just what I was talking about before, Harry. You still have limits, little though you seem to realise that fact!" 

_Limits._ Harry wanted to start throwing things. So Severus was in charge! Of Harry, of his magic, of _everything_. Well, if he liked having all that authority so much, he could damned well start putting it to good use! 

"Fine!" shouted Harry, fed up. "You're such a master strategist, eh? Then _you_ come up with something! Because I'm not going to wait about for him to kill someone else, is that goddamned good and clear? You'll have to _Compulsio_ me to keep me here, and I swear, Severus, _I swear_ , if that fucking list of yours gets _one more name_ added to it because you locked me up when I could have been out killing him, then you can wank in the shower for the rest of your damned life, for all I'll care! You'll _never_ have me again. _Never, got that?_ Well, do you?" 

Severus lips pulled back until they were white. "Using sex as a bargaining tool after all, aren't you, then?" 

"No, I'm just not going to be in the mood to sleep with you, ever again, if you make me even more of a murderer than I already am--" 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hurling the invisibility cloak back into the trunk, Severus slammed it with one flick of his wand and then banished the entire trunk. 

_Bastard,_ thought Harry. _Fucking bastard\--_

He didn't get a chance to say anything, though. Severus' next move was to grab him by the upper arm, his grip so fierce it hurt, not that Harry cared. 

"You aren't a murderer, though I'm quickly revising my estimate of your intelligence!" 

"Oh, like you ever _really_ thought I had any!" shouted Harry. "Well? _Well?_ If you're so clever, _you_ solve it! Get me to Voldemort so I can blast his scrawny arse apart! _Now!_ " 

Harry was shocked beyond words when Severus hauled him over to the Floo. As it turned out, though, they weren't going to Little Hangleton or some other stronghold of Voldemort's. 

"Headmaster's Office," said Severus through clenched teeth as he flung down the powder that would take them there. 

  
  
  
  


**Monday, December 28, 1998 ---- 9:19 a.m.**

"Harry, Severus," said Albus, his forehead wrinkling slightly as he looked up from the parchments covering his desk. "You look as though there's something wrong?" 

_Understatement of the century,_ thought Severus, still fuming from Harry's outburst, not to mention his asinine idea of strategy. An invisibility cloak, honestly. Against the _Dark Lord_. 

Severus wanted to shake Harry until his teeth rattled. Though another part of him, a darker part, wanted instead to throw Harry across a bed and hold him down by force and thrust and thrust and thrust until Harry admitted that he belonged to Severus, that he'd do what Severus said . . . 

Severus did his best to mask all that from his expression. It certainly wouldn't help the situation if Harry saw the hunger in Severus' eyes, saw it for what it was. 

"You're damned right something's _wrong!_ " shouted Harry, his stance announcing to all the world that he was just spoiling for a fight. Even his fists were clenched. "I can cave in whole sections of Scotland and make _lakes_ appear, for God's sake, but apparently I can't decide for myself that it's time I put an end to Voldemort!" 

"Ah," said Albus slowly, nodding his head as he stood up. His gaze swiftly met Severus', before he turned his attention entirely to Harry. "You're correct, of course. It is time." 

Harry turned an ugly expression toward Severus. An _I-told-you-so_ expression. "Ha, I knew it. So that's it, then. I'll be off--" 

Albus raised a hand, fingers splayed, his voice as calm as Harry's was frantic. "A moment, please. What is your plan?" 

Harry scoffed, actually _scoffed_. 

Severus clenched his own fists, then. Forget throwing Harry across a bed. Such blatant disrespect towards the headmaster made him want to throw Harry across his _lap_ , and smack his bare arse until he begged Albus' pardon. 

Definitely, not an option. 

"Do you know where Voldemort might be?" continued Albus, still in that same soothing voice. Severus frowned, because it had just come to him that Albus had used that exact tone with _him_ , at times. 

"No," said Harry, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "No, I don't, and what's more, I don't _care_ where the fuck he is." 

"Harry!" 

"Oh, go straight to hell," spat Harry, without missing a beat. Then he was glaring at Albus again. "I'll start at Little Hangleton and let myself be _seen_ , you know? And if that doesn't work, I'll stand about on street corners and shout that Voldemort's a goddamned coward afraid to face me. It shouldn't take long for word to reach him." Harry's glare was almost searing as he turned it once more to Severus. "I'd even have an invisibility cloak to hide in, after that, if _somebody hadn't banished it!_ " 

"I can't think that's the best way to approach the problem," said Albus, coming out from behind his desk to stand closer to them both. 

"There's nothing wrong with my strategy!" shouted Harry. 

Severus had a sudden memory of Albus telling him about Harry going into a rage and destroying half the contents of this office. He could see how easily that could happen. Harry didn't seem to lose his temper very often, but when he did . . . 

Definitely, it was time to take his mammoth over-confidence down a notch. Or several. "You have so little sense of strategy that you never even noticed that I knew what you were planning. Or did you think it a coincidence that I summoned that cloak the moment you'd put it on?" 

"The alarm spell summoned _you_ , you mean!" 

"I mean that I never even went into my laboratory! I merely took a few steps down the hallway, until I was out of sight." 

"Oh, you did not--" 

" _I know what I'm doing, all right,_ " mimicked Severus, not caring that his tone made Harry's eyes darken with anger. "Do you really think, _really_ , that I couldn't see through the evasive way you were answering my questions? I stepped away so I could see just what you had in mind to do! And I must say, it was as about as brainless as any of your Gryffindor stunts!" 

"Severus," said Albus quietly, giving a small shake of his head. 

If Harry noticed that the headmaster was trying to say something, he didn't let it show. "Yeah, go on, then, call me stupid! Now _there's_ a good strategy, right before I have to fight the darkest wizard alive, make me think I'm too _brainless_ to figure out how to do it!" 

"I didn't say you were brainless. I said your _action_ was, and it was!" 

"Well, like I said before, then _you_ tell me what would help defeat him!" 

Severus' voice went cold. Frosty, in fact. " _Pleasing_ me would help, as you know. And you haven't been doing that this morning, have you? If you aren't careful, you might find yourself lacking your impressive powers when you come face to face with the Dark Lord." 

As an attempt to get through Harry's stubbornness, that failed. Rather spectacularly. 

"Well, then, I'll just have to let you _ream my arse out_ right before I go, won't I?" yelled Harry, obviously too incensed to remember that they weren't alone. "Since _pleasing_ your god-awful huge cock is all you really care about!" 

Severus saw red. Literally, a wash of crimson filming across his eyes to obscure his vision. Harry _again_ threatening to use sex against him . . . to use Severus' desire to get his own foolish way . . . Harry _manipulating_ him . . . And if that wasn't bad enough, doing it in front of Albus! Revealing what Severus liked to do in bed, revealing the size of his cock, to _Albus!_

Severus didn't think he'd ever been more horrified or embarrassed. But worst of all was what this could mean to the slavery contract. Harry was coming perilously close to breaking the clause about not discussing intimate details, and he didn't appear even to have noticed! 

Or perhaps he thought he had a _dire need_ , but Severus didn't think so. He wasn't going to put up with this. Not for an instant. If Harry couldn't use better judgement on his own, then Severus would have to make him. 

He drew his wand and said the word without hesitating in the slightest. " _Compulsio._ " 

Harry closed his eyes, clenching them like he could force the spell away from him. Like he was trying to, actually. But of course that was impossible. 

"Oh, Severus. Surely you needn't--" 

"Oh, yes, I do," interrupted Severus. Normally he wouldn't show such discourtesy to Albus, but as Harry was making clear, these weren't normal times. "You heard him. When it comes to this issue, he's completely lost his mind. He won't listen to a word I say." 

Harry kept his eyes clenched tightly shut as he parted his lips on a low hiss of pain. 

It hurt Severus to hear that noise, but this was too important for him to let emotion overrule reason. 

"I hate you," said Harry finally, the words taut and cold, his green eyes a glare of despair when he opened them. 

Hearing the words hurt, too. _And_ they fuelled Severus' anger. Because this was just one more way to manipulate him, wasn't it? He didn't know how much Harry had ever guessed about Severus' own feelings toward him, but this was an indication that Harry might have guessed more than Severus wanted him to know. 

"I don't care how much you hate me," said Severus, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're to stay here at Hogwarts, _inside_ the castle, unless I give you specific permission to leave it. And you're to speak with respect to the headmaster in future!" 

Harry's lips twisted. "Can I still say I hate _you_ , or are you about to issue a . . . an _edict_ about that, too?" 

"Severus," said Albus, very quietly that time. "I'm entirely capable of fending for myself. Verbally, and in every other way. I insist you lift that last restriction." 

Severus almost gnashed his teeth. Albus' calm only highlighted his own roaring anger. By then, though, even he could see that his last command probably had crossed the line. Albus _didn't_ need Severus to protect him. 

Severus muttered something under his breath. 

"What's that?" snarled Harry. "I don't think _Compulsio_ heard you. Because _I_ certainly didn't, _oh lord and Master!_ " 

Severus' original wording seemed to sail completely away from him. "Feel free to spew as much vitriol as you like at the headmaster! But don't blame me if the spell ends up punishing you if you keep on discussing _intimate details!_ " 

Well, it seemed that _that_ had got through to Harry. Some, at least. About time. He finally shut up. Actually, he swayed on his feet and looked a bit sick, all of a sudden. Obviously, he'd just realised how close he'd come to finding out how the contract would punish another breach of its terms. 

_So watch your mouth,_ Severus thought, clenching his teeth. He still could barely believe that Harry had lost his temper enough to yell those things. 

"Perhaps we should all sit down," said Albus his voice mild on the surface, but with a core of iron beneath the friendly tones. It was the sort of tone Severus had learned to heed. 

He sat at once, and so did Harry, though Harry made a show of twisting in his chair so he was turned as far away as possible from Severus. 

Could he possibly be any more childish? 

Instead of sitting behind his desk, Albus summoned his chair closer, and with a small twist of his wand, made Harry and Severus' chairs spin around to face his. 

Severus hid a smile, since the manoeuvre had caused Harry to suddenly be leaning _towards_ Severus rather away from him. 

With a scowl, Harry suddenly sat up straight. 

"Now," said Albus, his tones bracing. "I believe we all need to come to a better understanding." 

_Oh, no, we don’t,_ thought Severus. He understood everything perfectly. Harry was a handsome young man definitely _not_ above using sex as a weapon, and what was more, he hated Severus now. And none of that really mattered, because at least with _Compulsio_ in force, he couldn't leave and get himself killed before they'd figured out how best to utilize their crossed powers. 

"I understand everything perfectly," said Harry in a sniping voice, startling Severus with the way he'd used the same words Severus had just been thinking. "Snape here is a domineering bastard who's going to kill off my best chance yet of ending this war before things get any worse. _And_ if anybody else gets _Crucio'd_ to death, _he's_ the one to blame for it, not me. Because I _can't_ fucking well go fight Voldemort, not now. So there." 

"Perhaps you should thank him for lifting that burden from your shoulders, rather than call him names." 

Harry's eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open in obvious shock. Which went to show, didn't it, how much he was speaking without thinking, this morning. 

"My own understanding of the situation is rather different from yours, Harry," continued Albus in a pleasant voice. "You're naturally alarmed at the idea that Voldemort may kill additional people if you don’t act immediately. I would think you could understand Severus' alarm that Voldemort may kill _you_ if you act too rashly. Hmm?" 

"That's not the same thing--" 

"Oh, yes, indeed it is. Or do you think Severus would not suffer any guilt if he had the power to stop you and failed to use it, and you died as a result?" 

Harry slumped in his chair. "Yeah, fine. Whatever. I see your point, all right? But it doesn't change anything. I have to go do this, and I can't just wait weeks or months more. _I can't._ " 

"One day," said Albus calmly. "A day in which to consider our options. And by the end of that time, we'll know how best to proceed. Can you wait a day, Harry?" 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do I have a choice? I can't go anywhere!" 

"Ah, but I'm intending to ask Severus to lift that restriction as well." 

Severus immediately shook his head. "No. Out of the question, Headmaster. Not an hour ago he was doing his best to deceive me. A very poor best, at that--" 

"No more insults, my boys." Albus beamed at both of them. "I know you get on better than that." 

"Not any more--" 

"Oh, do shut up," said Severus. 

"Or you'll make me--" 

"No, he won't," Albus said. "But you must understand, Harry, that you've put Severus in a terrible position. I agree with him that your _stand-on-street-corners_ plan is misguided in the extreme. I am asking you, as a personal favour to me, to agree to wait until I've had time to consider our options. A day at the most, as I said." 

"What, you'll make him get rid of the compulsion charm if I say I'll wait a day?" 

"I can hardly _make_ him do that, Harry. As you know. No, I'm asking you a favour, as I said. It's up to you whether you're willing to grant it. Are you?" 

Severus watched, a little bit awed as calm blue eyes challenged angry green ones. Albus had a way with people, there was no doubt of that. It was a skill Severus had never mastered, had never bothered to try acquiring, even. Harry wasn't the only one with limits. 

"Oh, all right," said Harry finally, dropping his gaze. "One day. Though I can't see what difference one day could make." 

"Oh, you'd be surprised how much can change in a day." Albus' tone was actually jolly, that time, which told Severus one thing: the headmaster had already decided on a course of action. And a day would be enough to put his plan into action. 

Not that Severus had the slightest idea what that plan might be. 

"Now, Severus," said Albus, turning to him. 

_Here it comes,_ thought Severus grimly. He wished the old man wouldn't ask. But of course, he did ask. 

"Are you willing to cancel the spell you cast against Harry?" 

_Against._ Severus liked that! He'd cast it _for_ Harry, if anything. "I--" 

"As a personal favour to me," interrupted the headmaster. "In recognition of one or two small things I may have done for you over the years." 

Albus' gaze was like steel, by then, as he stared straight at Severus and laid it on thick. _Small things._ Severus might not have a way with people, but he had a very good grasp of the spoken word, and there was no doubt as to which _small things_ Albus was referring. The headmaster had taken him in, given him a place of refuge and a way to earn a living, after Severus had betrayed everything Albus had ever believed in. 

How could Severus refuse his request, considering all that? 

But how could he grant it, knowing what it might ultimately mean for Harry? 

"He'll leave," Severus finally said, his voice thick with emotion. Swallowing, he tried to damp that down. He wanted to be in control of himself again. This whole business of . . . of _caring_ for someone else, was really quite bothersome. Particularly when he cared not only about Harry, but also about what Albus thought of him. 

"I suppose you must trust him, Severus." 

"I can't, not in this regard. Not after this morning--" 

"Trust him, as he has trusted _you_." 

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry, his voice raised though he wasn't yelling any longer. "You _know_ how much I've trusted your sorry arse! I said I'd wait a day, and I'll do it, and I'd think you'd have at least a little respect for me, after all I've done to make this slavery thing work out--" 

"I have done quite a lot as well, you realise," said Severus, lifting his chin. 

"Fine, you have," admitted Harry, lifting his own chin, just as much. "But the difference is, I trusted you even when it was really hard to do it. Am I not worth the same consideration?" 

Put like that . . . Severus couldn't answer _no_. 

What he wanted to do instead was ask Harry a series of point-blank questions. Ones he couldn't evade with clever phrases. _Will you stay here in the castle at all times, for the next day, until Albus explains his plan? Will you?_

He wanted to ask that, and then wait for the pulse of energy coursing through his head. He wanted to ask, and see if Harry would lie in reply. 

But that would hardly demonstrate trust, which was what Harry was asking of him. 

Harry, and Albus both. 

" _Finite Incantatem,_ " said Severus, weary by then. "There. You're under no more compulsion. And I pray Merlin that's not the worst mistake I've ever made." 

"Oh, no, no, no need to implore Merlin," said Albus, rising to his feet. "We can trust young Harry, you and I. Now, I shall need some time to consider matters, as I said--" 

Pity he didn't have a mind-bond with Albus, Severus thought. Not that he needed one. He recognised that as a lie. Albus didn't need to consider a thing. He already had some kind of scheme in mind, to use Harry's crossed powers to best advantage. But clearly, Albus wasn't ready to discuss his plan quite yet. 

"I believe the best thing you and Harry can do," continued the headmaster, "is go back home and patch this all up. We do want to keep his twice-filled powers at their absolute peak of strength, of course, of course. I'm sure you two are more than capable of spending the next day or so doing whatever it takes to achieve that." The old man's infernal eyes actually began to twinkle, then. "Why, you might even enjoy it." 

Severus ground his teeth together, but Harry, who had less experience with Albus' wiliness, actually gaped. 

"I'll leave you to it, then," said Albus, smiling ear to ear, the interfering old busybody. "Since I've quite a lot to do." 

With that, he calmly walked across his office and stepped out the door. 

Harry made a sputtering noise. In other circumstances, it would have been quite an amusing sound. "Did he-- did he-- oh, my God. Did the headmaster just order us, more or less, to spend the entire day having _sex?_ " 

"And enjoying it," quipped Severus, deciding he might as well find humour in the situation. "And for the record, a day is really a day and a night. Shall we begin?" 

"Serve him right if we begin right here! But you know, I'm still pretty angry at you. I don't really want to--" 

"Yes, and I'm angry at you," said Severus calmly. "Though I wouldn't claim to hate you over it. But Harry, if Albus only asked you for a day, it's because he has something in mind that will have you facing the Dark Lord by the end of that time." 

"You think?" 

"I'm certain of it." Part of Severus hated even saying it. He realised then and there that he didn't _want_ Harry in harm's way. No matter that if the battle were properly planned, Harry would probably emerge victorious. The small chance of something going wrong was enough to make Severus wish Harry would never fight the Dark Lord. 

But Harry, of course, couldn't live like that. This morning was proof of it. Harry needed the war to be over. 

And if Harry needed that . . . then Severus needed it, too. 

"Oh." Harry swallowed. "I guess we really do need to patch things up, then. I mean, have sex. I still don't want to, though." 

"Let's see about changing that. You can top." 

"No . . . I'd better not. You know why." Harry laid a hand on Severus' arm. "I guess I don't really hate you, either. Sorry about that. I just . . . I just can't stand this. _All_ that power, and what good is it if I don't _do_ something?" 

"I know," said Severus. When before he'd wanted to deflate Harry's confidence, he now found he wanted to restore it. "It will be all right, Harry. Albus will come through for you. For us. And until he does, all we can do is . . ." 

"Enjoy ourselves patching things up." Harry smiled, then. "All right. Let's get busy, I guess." 

_Let's get busy._ Severus would never have put it that way, but he understood. 

Nodding, he took Harry by the hand and walked, side by side, with him to the Floo. 

  
  
  
  



	49. Chapter 49

 

 

  
  
  
  
**Tuesday, December 29, 1998 ---- 6:12 a.m.**

Harry sat up and reached for his wand to cast _Tempus._

"It's ten minutes since the last time you checked, and twenty since the time before that," said Severus, shaking his head. "Albus will let us know when he's ready for us." 

"Yeah, well he's only got about three more hours before his one day is up," said Harry in a hard voice. An ominous voice. Severus didn't like the sound of it. But then it seemed to soften. "Oh, well. Three hours is long enough for one more go-round, I suppose--" 

Severus shook his head again as he sat up enough to lean on one arm. "I'm afraid you've finally done it. You've wrung me dry." 

Harry turned in bed to stare at him. "Oh, I'm sure I could get one more orgasm out of you if I really put my mind to it." 

"You did that at approximately four this morning," said Severus dryly. "Amazing, after the way we spent the day, yesterday. But anything more now will only be painful. Trust me. A man knows." 

Harry smirked. "Does he? I could still go again. If I had to." 

"Do you want to?" 

The smirk faded to something more like a normal smile. "No, not really. It has been something else, though, the past day and night. Sort of like a buffet of sex. Well, _good_." Harry extended an arm and waved his wand in intricate motions. "I want to be ready." 

Severus fought back his urge to say something discouraging. He wanted Harry to be ready, too. He wanted him to end the war, _he did_. 

He just didn't want him to have to fight the Dark Lord to do it. 

Fragments of Harry's earlier complaints rang through his memory. _I was useless in that graveyard, Severus . . . I'd have been a goner if not for my parents . . ._

No, _no_ , Severus sternly told himself. _Cambiare is the key._ He'd told Harry to lean on that, but only now was Severus realising that he had to rely on it just as much. They'd done everything required to invoke and mature the spell. Harry _had_ twice-filled powers now, and with his innate magical talent, he already knew how to use them. The prophecy had promised that those powers would enable Harry to defeat the Dark Lord. 

_The same prophecy that predicted the birthday attack that never happened?_

Severus forced the question away, but it just kept coming back to him, in different forms. 

_The prophecy Trelawney gave? Trelawney, who can hardly tell the difference between a salt cellar and a crystal ball? You're trusting Harry's life to that charlatan?_ _What's wrong with you?_

No, thought Severus desperately. He was trusting Albus, not Trelawney. Albus, who was at that very moment, finalising his plan for how they could best employ crossed powers. For how they could maintain the advantage of surprise . . . 

All Severus really knew was that he couldn't think about the matter any more. What was, _was._

"Perhaps a shower is in order," said Severus, rising from the bed. His legs ached when he stood, probably from tensing them too much as he'd lain there thinking. 

Worrying. 

"Yeah, shower and get dressed . . ." Harry trailed after him. "I wish the headmaster would come talk to us, already." 

"He will, when he's ready." 

Harry cast _Tempus_ again. "Well, like I said, he's running out of time." 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, December 29, 1998 ---- 6:46 a.m.**

"Looks good," said Harry as a plate appeared before him. It was positively crammed with food; he'd felt really hungry when he'd ordered. Probably because of all the magic practice he'd done out at the rock. Ever since then, he'd been eating a lot more than usual. 

The first bite he took, though--bit of egg--seemed to turn his stomach almost inside out, even though he was starving. "I hate this." 

"Facing the Dark Lord?" 

"Ha." Harry hung his head in his hands, staring at the table. "I'm used to that. As much as anybody could be, I mean. No, I hate this _waiting_. I've never had to wait like this. I'd rather just . . . just . . ." 

"Rush in where angels fear to tread," said Severus softly. 

Harry looked up quickly, a bit annoyed. But then he saw the way those dark eyes were looking at him. No scorn, not this time. None at all. If anything, Severus was deeply concerned. 

About Harry? About Harry's state of mind? About what would happen to _him_ if Harry failed in his task, and Voldemort rose to full power? 

Well, Severus was probably worried about all of that. Any normal person would be. 

"It's easier to just rush in," said Harry thickly. " You don't have to sit and think about all of it. And . . . _planning_ . . . " He gave a dry laugh. "It's a good thing we spent our time fucking, Severus. Because all _planning_ does is make me second-guess myself. And third-guess myself. Until I can't even think straight. I need to be out there, _doing_. I'm not a planner." 

Severus gave a sharp nod. "Well, I did say that if the hat put you in Gryffindor, it was because that was where you really belonged. And too . . . perhaps that's why the prophecy paired us, Harry. So you would have someone to stop you from rushing out. Someone to insist Albus be consulted about the matter." 

Harry's lips twisted. "I thought it was because Voldemort had once given you that little bit of power that I was going to need on my birthday." 

"Obviously not, since you didn't need it." 

"Yeah--" 

The noise of the Floo flaring to life cut off his words. Shoving back his chair, Harry ran to the front room to find Albus Dumbledore stepping calmly out of the hearth. "Harry, Severus," he said, nodding at each of them. "Forgive the intrusion, but I thought I'd better arrive here before the _Prophet_ did." 

Harry's heart went cold inside him. Oh, God. No, _no._ There'd been another attack, _another fucking attack--_

"No, no, nothing dire in the least," said Albus in a soothing voice. "Please do sit down, Harry. You look quite pale. I promise you, there's nothing to be alarmed about." 

Harry sank down onto the settee. "No attack, you're sure?" 

"No attack," said Albus gravely. 

Blowing out a breath, Harry closed his eyes. On purpose. "Are you Legilimising me?" 

"You wouldn't ask that if you'd seen the look on your own face." 

Ha. A non-answer if Harry had ever heard one. Well, maybe that's where Severus had learned the trick. "What's this about the _Prophet_ , then?" 

When he opened his eyes, it was to see Albus smiling. "I'd have told you yesterday, but by the time I was sure they'd fallen for my ruse, it was rather late to pay a call." 

"Oh, we were up late--" Harry abruptly shut up, remembering just what they had been doing, up so late. Yeah, it was better that the headmaster hadn't interrupted that. The only thing worse than accidentally yelling things about their sex life was having Albus come over when Harry and Severus had just been in the throes of it. 

"There was no great rush," continued Albus in a kind voice that told Harry he'd entirely forgiven the ugly outburst in his office. "My ruse won't take effect until the morning edition is delivered 'round Britain, you see. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. The _Prophet_ attempted several times to contact me last night, and I sent their owls back convinced that though I went to Belfast on holiday, and should be entirely easy to find, I appear to have vanished. With that little confirmation, I think they'll print the story I've devised." 

"Albus, neither one of us has any idea what you're going on about," said Severus in an impatient voice. Sitting down next to Harry, he leaned forward, his hands clasped together. "Please do explain from the beginning." 

"Ah, yes. Of course." Albus swept his glance over them both, then, and Harry thought he looked . . . speculative. Or maybe satisfied, since it was kind of obvious that they weren't at each other's throats any longer. "I sent a letter to the _Prophet_ yesterday evening. A letter that purported to be from anonymous Death Eaters, claiming to have captured me." 

Harry stared. "Come again?" 

Severus, however, sat back suddenly, a low noise escaping through his teeth. "Yes. I see." 

"You see what?" 

"Strategy." 

Oh. Harry suddenly saw the implications, too. "You wanted the _Prophet_ to print that some Death Eaters have you--" 

"Yes. A good thing they're so habitually irresponsible with their reporting." 

Harry had never thought he would be glad of _that_ , but he suddenly was. "My God. They get a letter claiming to have you in their control, and they didn't even report it to the Ministry?"

"They probably want an exclusive," said Snape, clearly disgusted. "They wouldn't want the Minister using the Wizarding Wireless to announce this before the morning run."

That sounded like the _Prophet_ , all right. What arses. Well, enough of them. Harry got back to thinking about the plan. It lit up like a beacon inside him. "All right, so Voldemort's going to see the paper, and go into a _rage_ that some of his followers have snatched you and haven't yet handed you over. He'll call a meeting to find out which of his Death Eaters have you, and Severus will feel the call, and Severus will be able to tell us where he is, so I can _go_ there, already, and blast him to pieces!" 

"Essentially, yes." Albus held up a hand, though. "I have a slightly different scenario in mind, however. _We_ will go there, Harry. Together." 

Harry looked away from his kind blue gaze, staring at the wall, and swallowed. His eyes felt like there was a little sand in them. Or something salty, at any rate, so he blinked until the pinprick sensation went away. 

"It's not that I doubt your abilities," continued Albus in a soft voice. 

Harry quickly turned back. "No, no, it's not that," he said, shaking his head. "I'm relieved to know you'll be there, too. I know what the prophecy says and all, but I keep reliving that time in the Ministry." He swallowed again. "I sure did need you, then. Actually, I've always needed help when it comes to Voldemort." 

"Ah, but you have twice-filled powers, now. You won't need any more help than that. Of that much, I am certain." 

Harry smiled, recognising the attempt to bolster him. Appreciating it. 

"But I have been wrong before," Albus went on. "So I must be there, of course. I would not ask you to do this alone, Harry." 

"Thanks. Be good to have someone watch my back." Harry nodded, liking the plan more and more. "Especially if we know we're heading into a meeting crawling with Death Eaters. I can probably take them all on, but there's still such a thing as a lucky shot." He sighed, something occurring to him. "I'd want Severus there too, really. Except, that's not such a good idea. I guess he told you about the way it affects him when I cast with crossed powers?" 

"Oh, yes. I understand he loses his magic, temporarily, while you borrow it? Absolutely, Severus must remain within the protection of the castle's wards." 

"It's not just that he loses magic. He also gets dizzy and can hardly stand--" 

"That's quite enough," Severus interrupted. "Neither one of you has the slightest idea what you're talking about." 

Oh, that was too much. Harry knew that Severus wanted to help defeat Voldemort--look at how much he'd wanted to keep spying, even when it was obviously a bad idea! This was more of the same, but no matter what Severus wanted, it was completely _stupid_ for him to be anywhere near the battle. He wouldn't be able to defend himself, not while Harry was using twice-filled powers! And Harry couldn't look out for him _and_ defeat Voldemort. It was like he'd said before. He had to go into this with one goal. Without distractions. 

"Look, you want to help and don't think I don't appreciate it," said Harry, grabbing one of Severus' hands. "But you _have_ helped, all right? _Cambiare is the key_ is almost a joke, if you think about it. _You've_ been the key, Severus. _You_ made this work. But now, you have to let me do the rest." 

Severus' fingers squeezed his. "You made this work, too." 

Harry nodded. "Fine. We're in it together, yes. But we can't _be_ together when I confront Voldemort. You have to stay here, and don't say again that I don't know what I'm talking about. I've _seen_ you get dizzy, collapse into a chair, practically faint--" 

"Just how do you think my Dark Mark works?" Severus interrupted, glancing from Harry to Albus. "I can't _tell_ you where a meeting is being held. I can only _go_ there, when I feel the call. The Dark Lord pulls me to him." 

"Oh, my." Albus began stroking his beard. "That does complicate matters." 

"Considerably," said Severus dryly. "Particularly as I have every intention of surviving the war. I'm not eager to Apparate directly into a meeting and find myself helpless, once there. And I'm certainly not eager for my momentary weakness to distract Harry's attention at a crucial moment." 

Harry let go of Severus' hand, and started tapping his fingers together as he thought. "Apparating directly into a meeting sounds bad, anyway. I'd rather skulk about a little bit and wait until it seems like a good time to surprise Voldemort. Er . . . can't you Apparate us most of the way there, and then miss by just a little bit?" 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. He's the one drawing me there, once I Disapparate. To fall out of the Apparition early, I'd have to be a stronger wizard than he. And I'm not." 

"But I am." 

"So you are, Harry, so you are," said Albus in an approving tone. "Excellent notion, that. Severus can side-along you, and you can call a halt to the Apparition just before you sense it's about to end in any case. Do you think you can judge when, adequately?" 

"Oh, sure. I even played around a little bit, already, with my twice-filled powers and Apparition. I can pull us out early--" 

"You didn't play around with resisting the Dark Lord's ability to draw me near, or timing it precisely." Severus' voice sounded harsh. "Whatever you may have done at the rock, this is wholly untested magic." 

"Well, it's the best plan we have," retorted Harry. "It's better than touching down in the middle of a meeting. At least this way, we have a hope of keeping you away from the thick of battle. As soon as I'm set, you can even Apparate yourself right back to the edge of Hogwarts, and leave Albus and me to it." 

"Yes, perhaps I'll catch up on my reading!" snapped Severus. "I may not be able to help you fight, considering the limits of the enchantment binding us, but you're insane if you think I have any intention of abandoning you to your fate, whatever it may be! You may need help afterwards, or--" 

"But Albus will be there," said Harry in what he thought was a reasonable tone. Huh. Severus must not have thought it was. 

"Albus may fall in battle! Warfare by its very nature is unpredictable, something you would know if you'd mastered history instead of dropping the subject--" 

"Now, now," said Albus, shaking his head. "I know you're worried about Harry, Severus, but do try not to take it out on him. I had already anticipated that it would be more than you could bear to simply wait matters out, not knowing how Harry was doing." Fishing in a pocket, he withdrew a small, square item wrapped in red silk and handed it to Severus. When Harry leaned over to peer into it, he saw that it was a mirror, currently showing a wide bookshelf, when it should have been reflecting Severus' own face. 

Something shivered through Harry, then. He had a mirror like this, too. A broken one. This one, though, was working fine. "Where's the other half of the pair?" 

Reaching up a hand, Albus touched one of the tiny crescent moons glittering on his conical hat. 

A thin, elderly finger came into view on the mirror Severus was holding. 

"Oh, all right." Harry smiled. "That'll work. It'll be almost like you're there with us, Severus. You'll be able to see everything the headmaster sees. And once it's all over, you can come join us if I need to get to a mediwitch or something. Because by then, you _will_ know where to Apparate back to, right? It's perfect." 

"No plan is ever that," said Severus, shoving the mirror into a pocket. His voice sounded strained. And maybe a little resentful. "But this is . . . adequate, I suppose." 

Albus walked to Severus' side and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes it takes more courage to stand aside than to act, Severus. And your courage, I know, is not something I will ever have cause to doubt." 

"Yeah, it's like you told me," said Harry earnestly. "You'd think submission is for the weak, but it takes strength to really submit completely." 

Snape abruptly rose to his feet. "I don’t need all this mollycoddling. I'm perfectly happy to leave the heroics to fool-- to Gryffindors." 

Sure he was, Harry thought. That explained why Severus had been so irate when he'd missed getting an Order of Merlin for capturing Sirius. Harry resolved then and there that Severus would _get_ one, this time. First class. 

"Of course, of course," said Albus, clearly not fooled either, since he slid a smile Harry's way. A _I-think-we-both-understand-him_ smile. 

Harry grinned back, then got back to the business at hand. "How are you going to follow us? Or did you want Severus to side-along you and me both?" 

"A tracking charm should do quite nicely." Albus waved his wand, and one of Severus' buttons briefly glowed. "And now, I believe, there's nothing to do but wait." 

Harry nodded as he stood up. "Want some breakfast? Or did you already eat?" 

"I could do with a spot of tea. I've been too busy, this morning." 

"Yes, what with dashing off letters to the _Prophet_ and confunding owls," drawled Severus. 

"Oh, you be nice," said Harry. Then, as they walked down the hallway to the dining alcove in the reading room, "That fairy-raised blend, Albus? Or something else?" 

"Earl Black," Severus ordered for himself, tapping the table with a little more force than usual. 

"Fairy-raised Javanese would be lovely," said Albus placidly as he conjured himself a chair. Sitting down, he patted his stomach. "But nothing else at the moment. A heavy meal seems to weigh me down, somehow. We can't have that. Not this morning." 

"Well, I'm starving," said Harry. His plate from before had been cleared away by then, so as soon as the tea order was in, he went ahead and asked for another breakfast. "Three more eggs. Wait, no, make that a three-egg cheese omelette. Cheddar cheese. And three or four strips of bacon alongside. And a big carafe of pumpkin juice, and um . . . bowl of porridge sounds all right." When he looked up, it was to see the other men staring at him. "Hey, I do better on a full stomach. And the twice-filled powers make me need to eat a lot, so I figure to be at my best, I'd better stock up beforehand." 

"Just stop before food comes pouring out your ears." 

Harry laughed, feeling more positive than he had in days, really. What was more, he felt ready, now. Knowing that he wasn't going into this alone made all the difference. 

He'd just about finished his breakfast when the _Daily Prophet_ glimmered into existence onto the middle of the table. Severus had arranged for it to be redirected here instead of to the head table on weekends, as well as during the Yule holiday. Usually when it came, Harry would avert his eyes. He hated the articles they kept printing, the ones speculating that he was destined to save the whole world. His stomach felt like lead every time he saw one of those, and not just because he hated being the centre of attention. It was also the inescapable fact that what they were printing would all too soon become _true_ , and everybody would find out about his staggering powers, and reporters would start digging and digging and digging . . . until somebody finally found that declaration of slavery that had been misfiled on purpose. 

The only thing worse than being enslaved for life was the prospect of everybody knowing about it. _All_ about it, because that stupid declaration had mentioned _Cambiare Podentes_ by name. Rita Skeeter would dig until she knew every last detail about what that spell required of Harry. 

Today's banner headline, though, wasn't about Harry at all. 

_DUMBLEDORE CAPTURED,_ the text screamed. 

The photograph beneath it was more mundane: Dumbledore awarding last year's Quidditch Cup. 

Since Voldemort hadn't called his followers, yet, Harry decided there was time to read the article. And since the other two were waiting, he read it out loud. Not that there was much at all to it. A letter had arrived by Floo at the offices of the _Daily Prophet_ the previous evening, announcing that Death Eaters had attacked and subdued Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, while he was on holiday at a wizarding spa in Belfast. Attached to the letter had been a tattered hat. Purple with yellow crescents, the same one the headmaster was wearing in the photograph. 

"Well done, Albus," said Severus when Harry had fallen silent. "Well done, indeed." 

Harry laughed, a little nervously. "Are we sure dark lords read the dailies, though?" 

"One of his faithful will tell him of this, if by chance he doesn't read it for himself." 

"Yeah. Obviously. Well, I guess there's nothing to do now, but wait." 

Severus rolled up his sleeve and glanced down at his Dark Mark. "Yes. Nothing to do but wait." 

  
  
  
  



	50. Chapter 50

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, December 29, 1998 ---- 8:11 a.m.**

Severus gasped as the mark on his arm began to flare to life. 

Harry had been leaning against him as they sat together on the settee, waiting, but at that, he sat up straight and looked into Severus' eyes. "It's starting?" 

"It is." 

"Right, then." Harry went straight to the Floo and snatched powder from the mantle. 

Severus frowned, thinking the plan through, though of course he'd done nothing but that for the past hour. Could anything go wrong, anything at all? Albus was already waiting for them at a safe house in southern England. Apparating from there, they hoped, would keep Voldemort from realising that one of the wizards responding to his call was coming from the direction of Hogwarts. 

Albus had left them alone to wait, presumably so they could say whatever might need to be said at a time like this. Not that either one of them had said anything. Severus hadn't known how to begin. Couldn't even imagine how, actually. 

And even if he _could_ , he wasn't about to make some sort of declaration. Merlin knew, he might regret that later. Just the day before, Harry had been flinging words like _hate_ at him, and it hadn't been the first time, either. It was almost as though he knew how to best strike at Severus, even without being told how important he was, how Severus longed for him-- 

Longed for him to survive. That was the only thing that mattered, surely. So, best not to distract him. Yes, yes, Severus decided. If they'd spoken only of inconsequentials during the last hour . . . well, that was probably as it should be. 

Standing before the Floo now, preparing to leave, however . . . he found he couldn't say nothing at all. And no words of battle or victory could make any difference. Perhaps, nothing could. But still, Severus felt a need to say something, however meaningless. However mundane. 

Something that would resonate inside Harry, and give him strength. Not that he seemed to need any. Harry was eager to be on his way, a fount of confidence, his earlier doubts washed away as though they had never been. 

Severus still wanted to give him something. 

"Disneyworld," he said quietly, taking Harry's hand as they stepped together into the Floo. "The one in Florida is Disneyworld. I investigated." 

Harry stretched up to kiss him. Just a peck, and a single sentence whispering against Severus' lips. "You really are the best, you know." 

Trite words, after the claim of hatred the day before. But Severus clung to them anyway, as the roar of green fire swept upwards to swallow them whole. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, December 29, 1998 ---- 8:16 a.m.**

Albus greeted them quietly with a few words. There was no review of their plan, no rushed exchange of probabilities or contingencies. They'd done all that earlier, and now, there was nothing more to be gained from such discussions. 

Severus might have cut that kind of talk off even if it was strategic, because their primary strategy, of course, was Harry. Harry, who didn't need to second-guess himself. Harry, who needed simply to act, to fulfil the prophecy that for so long had ruled his life. 

He gathered Harry to him, tightly, and closed his eyes against the certain knowledge in Albus'. The older wizard knew he cared. Knew he _loved_ , even. Severus had given too much away for there to be any doubt of it now. 

He forced himself to answer the call pulling at his flesh, keeping Harry with him as he allowed himself to be pulled through that narrow tube leading to the Dark Lord's side. The process this time was painful. Two people in that tube, constricted, pressed so close together they might as well be one. 

Severus gasped for breath, or perhaps Harry was the one gasping. He couldn't tell through the lurch of movement sucking him through, through, through, every second coming closer to the frozen air that was the Dark Lord's presence-- 

_Now, Harry,_ he tried to shout, but it was as though his mouth had been forced shut, lips glued together, and all he could do was think the scream, _now, now, now--_

He abruptly fell to earth, Harry clutched tightly to him. Lying awkwardly on his side, Severus could barely force his eyes open, but when he managed, his vision swam, the world around him a wash of colours trying to paint themselves over, again and again. 

He sensed Harry moving beside him, flipping over somehow, and then a whispered hiss. "I can't see him." 

_I can't see anything,_ Severus would have said, but he was still panting. 

A noise like a fire crashing somewhere very close to hand had Severus jerking his head up. The whirl of colour that produced made him reel, but he still reached for his wand, struggling to draw it out. 

"No, no danger," said Harry, quietly, his voice nothing more than the murmur of reeds in wind, really. "It's the one who was supposed to follow us." 

If Severus had had more energy, he might have praised such careful phrasing. As it was, he had no energy to spare. 

"My boy," said Albus' quiet voice as Severus lay there feeling like a broken wand, "I don't think you can make it back on your own. I'll take you back, now that I know where to return to." 

Strength seemed to appear from nowhere, enough so that Severus managed to lift a hand and clutch a wad of fabric. Sleek, it tried to slip from his grasp. Severus tightened his grip. "No, _no_ ," he groaned, his voice quivering with exhaustion. " _No._ Don't leave him alone." 

Thankfully, by then the weakness in his limbs was fading. His vision was clearing, too, as his body recovered from the terrible shock of Harry's twice-filled powers forcing him out of Apparition early. Severus sat up and moved his hands to his lap as he leaned against . . . something. Oh, a fallen tree. They were outdoors, somewhere. "I'll Apparate myself as soon as it's practicable," he announced, his voice sounding rough still, but much better that time. "I won't stand for him being left here alone." 

"Of course, my boy, of course--" 

Albus reached out as though to pat him on the shoulder. 

Severus instantly lifted his wand hand, relieved to see that he was able to keep a grip on his wand. "Don't do it, old man." 

"Leave him alone," said Harry, crawling over to him. _Crawling?_ Oh, to hide behind the tree. Severus wanted to applaud the caution. "Do you recognise this place? Can you tell us anything?" 

Severus made more of an effort to observe his surroundings, something he would usually do without being prompted. "New meeting place," he finally groaned. 

"He was on holiday when he read the paper," whispered Harry, sounding so disgustingly cheerful, _chirpy_ with it really, that Severus could hardly bear it. Joking, at a time like this. Joking! 

But perhaps that meant that Harry was in his element, here. He didn't play the hero; Severus knew that, now. No, he _was_ a hero, and that was something rather different. 

"Movement to the east," murmured Albus, his lips barely moving, his eyes glowing now as though he had second sight. "Apparition." 

"Latecomers," explained Severus. "Follow the screams. Go. _Go_. He may Legilimise them any moment, and discover that none of them are hiding you." 

Harry leaned more fully over Severus and looked him in the eyes. "You Apparate away as soon as you possibly can. Don't pull some Gryffindor stunt like staying here. Promise me that." 

Severus didn't have any intention otherwise. To stay here was folly. Not only for his sake, but for Harry's as well. Look at how he was delaying, even now, to extract this promise! 

"I'd have let Albus take me back if it wouldn't leave you here alone," he gasped. Breathing was still difficult, although less so than before. Harry didn't move, not until Severus said what he was waiting for. "I promise." 

Harry's hand swiftly closed over his, tightening Severus' grip on his wand. "Stay safe." 

With that, he was gone, shimmering out of sight as he cast a Disillusionment charm across both himself and Albus. Not a twice-filled spell, though; he would want Severus to recover, not grow even weaker. 

Struggling with his left hand, Severus managed to draw out the mirror in his pocket. Propping it awkwardly against a pebble, he could see an image of trees moving swiftly past, as Albus made his way toward the screaming that had begun. 

Albus, and Harry. 

Severus drew in a deep breath, and then a deeper one still, and saved his strength for whatever lay ahead. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, December 29, 1998 ---- 8:25 a.m.**

The screaming stopped, as suddenly as it had begun, but that was only because Voldemort had gracefully lifted his wand, ending whatever curse had been cast. His almost lipless mouth curled into a thin smile. "Perhaps next time you'll remember that I would appreciate your prompt arrival. Yes?" The whimpering man on the ground nodded frantically, and crawled forward to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes. 

Voldemort gave a low chuckle as he swept his hand about as though to indicate that all his Death Eaters should pay close attention. "Very good, Carrow, but not good enough. _Crucio._ " 

The man collapsed to his back and began screaming again as convulsions caused him to jerk madly about, his arms and legs flailing in all directions. 

Harry felt sickened just watching it. Too reminiscent of his own experiences at Voldemort's hand. 

The curse ended again, and that time, Voldemort ignored the man writhing at his feet. "So who among you has concealed your deeds?" he roared, prowling to and fro, back and forth, catlike as he challenged first one follower and then another. "Albus Dumbledore himself, taken alive, and I must learn it from other than your own lips?" 

"No, my lord." 

"No, my master." 

"The _Prophet_ lies, my lord--" 

When Voldemort held up a hand again, the murmured protests stopped at once. "The _Prophet_ spreads what lies I wish! This is something else, some treason among you . . . _Crucio!_ " 

That time, he swept his wand in an arc that encompassed three Death Eaters at once. They fell to the ground, twisting, pleading, begging. Harry ground his teeth together as the magnifying spell he was watching through illuminated details. Masks, robes. 

But also, a gleaming metal hand. 

Harry didn't even need Albus' whispered _now_ to know the time had come. He would get no better chance than this, with three of Voldemort's followers made useless by his own hand. 

Gripping his wand tightly, he drew upon his own magic only, and silently Disapparated. He didn't arrive in silence, though. He'd learnt to do it differently out on the rock, learned how to use his twice-filled powers to advantage. The advantage of surprise . . . 

An enormous boom echoed through the field around him as he appeared in a position just outside the circle of Death Eaters. The noise was like a thunderclap, but with physical force. A shock wave spun outwards from Harry as he emerged from the magic, the booming noise going on an on. The Death Eaters who weren't under _Cruciatus_ fell to their knees and clutched their ears, screaming almost as loudly as the ones who were being tortured. 

Only Voldemort remained upright. "Why Harry, _Harry,_ " he said, his lips curling back to reveal his teeth, his eyes glowing like coals. "Have you forgotten already, proper duelling rules--" 

Harry wasn't about to listen to any of his useless blather. " _Avada Kedavra!_ " he screamed, flinging his wand hand out and up. You needed hatred to make it work; he had that. And you needed the desire to kill. 

He had that, as well. 

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " shouted Voldemort, moving his wand in a circle before yanking it sharply upwards to meet Harry's killing curse. 

Their spells collided in mid-air, like in the cemetery. A glowing, fiery line shot from between their wands to connect them. This time, however, Harry's spell was the stronger one. It pushed and pushed, unyielding, surging toward Voldemort, sweeping the other wizard's spell out of the way as it moved. 

Harry drew even harder on his crossed powers and watched his Killing Curse advance relentlessly toward Voldemort, who gripped his wand like it was a lightning bolt about to explode. 

From behind, Harry realised he was hearing spells fired left and right. Curses, shields, explosions. A whirlwind too, as Albus battled the Death Eaters and kept them from attacking Harry. 

"What will you do, Harry Potter?" shouted Voldemort over the tremendous noise of their colliding spells. "No Mudblood mother to save you now, is there? And your mentor has his hands full, it would seem!" 

Harry didn't listen to that. Albus could hold his own against any number of Voldemort's minions, and besides, he recognised the claim as a lie. As manipulation. "I can see right through you!" shouted Harry. "What a poor Slytherin you make!" 

Voldemort reacted to that about as well as Bole had. Fury surged in his eyes. " _You_ cannot kill me, Harry Potter! Nothing can kill me! Nothing, and no-one! Your careful web of lies has come to nothing, _nothing!_ " 

Harry ignored all that, and held his wand steady and firm, pushing his powers as far as they would go, _shoving_ the Killing Curse down the fiery band connecting their wands. Shoving it at Voldemort. Three feet more, then two-- 

" _Accio_ wand!" screamed Voldemort, and one came flying at him. He caught it in his other hand and pointed it at the three Death Eaters still writhing under _Cruciatus_. " _Finite!_ Attack Potter!" 

Albus was fast enough to disarm two of the three, even while he continued his own raging battle, but Pettigrew got off a stunner that caught Harry in the leg and send him stumbling. 

The arc of fire connecting Harry's wand with Voldemort's abruptly vanished, and Voldemort was left holding two wands. He twirled one in his hand as he considered Harry, who was lurching back to his feet. "Oh, such a pity your dear Mudblood mother won't be here this time to see the last of you," said Voldemort, his tone something between a snarl and a simper. "Such a pity. Because you're in rather a bind now, aren't you, Harry Potter? You should have realised you would need another wand, after we duelled a few years ago. You've nothing but a wand that can't fight mine. But _I,_ " he paused to smile broadly, his red eyes burning like torches, "have another." 

Voldemort didn't waste another moment. " _Avada Kedavra!"_ he roared again, this time using the borrowed wand, the spell flashing straight toward Harry. 

" _Protego!_ " 

Harry's shield spell spread out from him like a great balloon, only this time, the balloon seemed made of marble. 

Voldemort's _Avada_ collided with it, smashing through, but the spell had lost momentum. As Harry stepped to the side, it sailed right past him and hit a Death Eater squarely in the chest. 

Quickly cancelling the shield spell so his next tactic could work, Harry reached deep into his twice-filled powers, and concentrated on the wizards all around him, everyone except Albus. " _Accio_ wands!" 

They came sailing at him from every direction, it seemed, fast enough that they might as well be bullets. 

" _Protego!_ " Harry shouted again, and the wands clattered against marble, falling harmlessly to the ground. 

Voldemort made a contemptuous noise as he banished all the wands lying in the dirt. "So foolish, young Harry. Impressive, but foolish. So you thought to get another wand, did you? If Dumbledore should be so foolish as to give you _his_ , I'll kill him before you can so much as lift it." 

Behind Harry, the battle came to an abrupt end, all noise ceasing. 

Voldemort still had his own wand, the one with the phoenix feather, but his borrowed one was gone. Harry didn't spare time wondering why his summoning charm had failed. What was, _was_. 

"An interesting dilemma," continued Voldemort, clicking his teeth. "What will you do, Harry Potter? You've been practicing advanced magic, but your wand is still no proof against mine. Have you learnt nothing of use? They share a core, and cannot battle each other! And dear Dumbledore is tired now, isn't he, or he would have done something already, to save you as he saved you last time--" 

Harry had heard just about enough. He knew why Albus wasn't saving him, this time. Only Harry could do what needed to be done. " _Accio_ Severus' wand!" he screamed, flinging out his own as hard as he could. 

Voldemort's whole face convulsed. "Severus!" he roared, whirling left and then right. "Where is the traitor?" 

"Safe from _you!_ " shouted Harry, but almost at once he wondered if it were really true, because even a twice-filled summoning spell should take some time to bring Severus' wand to him, yet it was here already, flying at Harry with enough speed to pierce straight through him. Quickly twisting his wand, Harry damped his power down. 

" _Accio_ Severus' wand!" Voldemort called out, stomping forward to advance on it, but the length of ebony obeyed Harry's spell, not his. 

It fell into Harry's outstretched hand, and Harry wasted no time in using it. 

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " he shouted again, pulling on every ounce of power he could possibly find. An image flashed before his eyes: the cavern crashing in on itself. Harry gritted his teeth, pulling harder, then harder, then harder still on Severus' magic. _All_ his magic, this time. Nothing less would kill the evil standing just a few feet distant. 

_A hundred caverns,_ thought Harry, _willing_ himself to be stronger, then stronger still. _A thousand caverns. A hundred thousand. The world, the entire world, every mountain, every river. At my command--_

A blinding green light exploded from Severus' wand and leapt across the distance to Voldemort, like lightning arcing. 

It hit the dark wizard full in the chest, but it didn't knock him down. "You foolish, foolish boy!" crowed Voldemort, throwing back his shoulders and laughing cruelly. "Don't you think I thought of that, don’t you think I--" 

But something was happening to him, something Harry had never seen before. A ball of green light seemed to be gathering in his chest, glowing so fiercely that it was visible even through his robes. The ball rotated and then began to spin, faster and faster. 

Gasping, Voldemort clutched his chest with one hand, as if he could hold the spell inside himself, even as his wand hand was still extended toward Harry. " _Avada-- Avada--_ " 

He seemed to be weakening. Unable to speak, unable to complete the incantation, but he was such a powerful wizard that a jet of green light left his wand all the same, moving slowly. 

Harry easily countered it, using the wand that was a twin of Voldemort's own. 

Behind Harry, the noises of Death Eaters losing hope began to rent the air. 

"What's happening?" 

"What's _happening?_ " 

"The Dark Lord is dying!" 

Pettigrew's scream interrupted them all. " _No!_ The Dark Lord shall reign forever!" 

And then everything went still, and silent. No noise in the clearing but the ones Voldemort was making. Harsh, staccato noises coming from the back of his throat as the green light inside his chest kept spinning, spinning, faster and faster, glowing brighter every second. 

Harry didn't know what was happening behind him, but he couldn't take his eyes off Voldemort to see. "Albus?" he asked, keeping both his wands at the ready. 

"I've silenced them, now," said the older wizard, sounding exhausted. 

Voldemort fell to his knees, his eyes wide open in an expression of utter horror. " _Accio_ Voldemort's wand," Harry tried, but again, it didn't move. No matter, really. Voldemort had dropped it by then and didn't look capable of bending to pick it up. He looked like stone, as still as death, but breathing still. 

"Of course, of course," murmured Albus, and then suddenly, more urgently, "Harry, _move_. Get out of the way! _Now!_ " 

Out of the way of _what,_ Harry wanted to ask, but he never got the chance, because by then, it had begun. The ball of green fire in Voldemort's chest exploded, and six enormous green rays came pouring out of him. Or seven, perhaps. Harry lost count as he dropped to the ground and rolled. 

A couple of the spells shot right over his head, so close that he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. 

Clapping a hand to his nape and rubbing, Harry got cautiously to his feet. The rays of green light were continuing along their trajectories now, shooting away from Voldemort in all directions, like the spokes of a wheel. 

One, however, had never really left at all. It had leapt away from Voldemort only to shoot straight down at the spot where the dark wizard's wand was lying. Or rather, where it used to be. The wand had been incinerated, and the earth beneath it had blackened and caught fire. 

Voldemort, though, was still alive. His chest nothing but a gaping hole, a wound lined with blackened flesh, he was on his back by then, his mouth open on a silent scream, but breathing. Still breathing. 

_How_ he could possibly be alive was anyone's guess, Harry thought, walking closer, both wands still at the ready. He couldn't possibly have a heart still . . . but then, he'd never had much of a heart, had he? 

"Harry," said Albus, sounding pained. Harry glanced at him, quickly, and saw him surrounded by Death Eaters bound tight with cords, and frozen into place. Albus looked exhausted, but that only stood to reason. Even the strongest wizard would find one against--Harry quickly counted--sixteen a bit of a strain. 

"You are all right, Harry?" 

"I'm fine." Harry's brow furrowed as Albus took a limping step forward. 

"Not to worry. The battle was a strain, but I will recover." 

"Will he?" asked Harry, moving a little closer to Voldemort, who was writhing by then, his fingers scrabbling against the dirt. "Why isn't he dead, already?" 

"Because your magnificent _Avada_ has yet to complete its work." Albus weakly gestured to the east and west. "There are parts of him, Harry, parts of his soul, hidden in far-flung places, I think. Horcruxes, we call them. He's split his soul so his body can't die even when there's not enough of it left to stay alive. But your _Avada_ is hunting his Horcruxes out, and when they are all destroyed . . ." Albus left the rest unsaid. 

"One of them was his wand," gasped Harry, suddenly understanding. "That was why I couldn't summon it, because it wasn't just a wand, it was part of _him._ " 

"Yes, I should think so. Yes." 

Voldemort's lips were moving, but it seemed he couldn’t speak. No air left in his lungs, or more correctly, no lungs. Enough air was left in his throat, though, for him to finally force out one syllable, just one. 

"How--" 

Albus dropped to his knees in the dirt, just beside Voldemort's head. "How did Harry find out about your Horcruxes, Tom? But he didn't. None of us did. And in that case, how did he kill them?" Albus smiled, the expression gentle. "Because Harry understands the most important truth in this life, the truth that you failed to ever learn. To give is better than to take. To save, is better than to rule." 

"No, no, no," Voldemort began saying, but the words were silent; he had no breath left with which to speak. A shudder wracked him, and then another, his eyes rolling up in his head, even as he kept shaking it. _No, no, no, no . . ._

Harry didn't know if he was protesting Albus' words, or if far away, his soul was being annihilated, bit by bit. Could he feel that? Did it hurt? 

Now that he posed no more threat, Harry almost wished it didn't. He'd come here with fury, but that was gone, now. He wasn't sure what had taken its place. Not pity, not exactly. But something. Some emotion that was less bitter that what had been there, before. 

Albus had moved to cradle Voldemort's head between his palms, and he was stroking his cheek now, slowly, and saying something, his voice a low whisper. 

Sensing that the moment wasn't one he should be watching, Harry turned away. The Death Eaters were still and silent, Albus' spells holding them tightly bound. Except for Pettigrew with his gleaming arm, Harry didn't know who they were. But he found he didn't really care. They were defeated, and from the look in their eyes, horrified comprehension visible through the holes in their masks, they knew it. They knew their Master was beyond recovering, now. Knew that he was soon to die. 

Something would have to be done with the Death Eaters held helpless here, Harry thought. Death would be simplest. They could go with Voldemort, and never trouble Harry again. 

The idea had appeal, but only the result, not the actual execution. Harry couldn’t kill in cold blood. Not even Death Eaters. 

Not even Pettigrew. 

He'd told himself before that he would have to become either murderer or victim, that there would be no other way, but that wasn't true at all. He'd had to kill, but it was like Albus had said. He'd done it to give, not to take. To give them all a chance at life, instead of a living death under Voldemort's rule. 

And Harry . . . Harry wasn't a murderer. He stepped away from the Death Eaters. 

In the far distance, the sky lit up in shades of green, but then the colour faded away, and Harry realised that Albus was standing at his side. Voldemort was still now, his mangled body obviously lifeless. 

But still, Harry had to ask. "He's dead, then? Really, truly dead?" 

"Really, truly dead," echoed Albus. 

"How could you, why did you--" Harry turned to the headmaster. "You held him as he died!" Something thick lodged itself in his throat; Harry swallowed until it went away. "He was _horrible!_ How could you? Why _would_ you? I . . . I don't understand." 

"It's very simple, really," said Albus, clasping both Harry's hands in his own, even though it made him wince. "Harry . . . he was my student, too." 

"So you . . . you'll _mourn_ him?" asked Harry, the words surging up before he could stop them. 

"No, never." Albus smiled, very sadly. "But I will always mourn what might have been, you see. I'll always wonder if there was something I should have done differently." 

"No, _no_ ," said Harry, all his anger draining away as understanding flooded in to take its place. He knew now what Severus had been trying to tell him. What all his friends had tried to tell him. "You did what you could. Everything you could. The rest . . . you have to let it go." 

"Ah, yes. Wise words from one so young." Dropping Harry's hands, Albus turned to survey the frozen Death Eaters. "I think it is time we requested Aurors." 

"Yeah, and then I have to go and tell Severus how it went, everything . . . not that he doesn't know already, I guess." The mirrors worked in two directions, though, so Harry stood on tip-toe to peer up into the little crescent Albus had pointed to earlier. "Hey, Severus! We did it, we did it!" 

Severus' face should have come into view. Should _already_ be in view. He'd be looking in the mirror, of course. He'd be tracking the battle and the aftermath. But his face never appeared. 

It was like the man hadn't heard him. Or couldn't hear him, maybe. And the view in the mirror . . . it was showing only sky, not some part of the dungeons, like it should if Severus had returned to Hogwarts. 

"Something's wrong," gasped Harry, waving haphazardly toward the Death Easters. "Make sure they stay under until the Aurors arrive. Guard them, or I will, or-- No, _I_ have to find Severus--" 

"Go," said Albus, taking off his hat and handing it to Harry. "The mirrors are well-linked. This one will lead you to the other. _Go_. I will summon the Aurors and wait here for them." 

Harry nodded and took off at a run, the hat clutched tightly in his hands.   
  
  
  



	51. Chapter 51

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, December 29, 1998 ---- 8:44 a.m.**

Severus wasn't propped up against the fallen tree where Harry had last seen him. 

That was annoying, even if it did mean that Severus had Apparated himself to somewhere safer, just as promised. But where would he have gone? That wand definitely hadn't come flying at Harry all the way from Hogwarts. Crossed powers or no, it had arrived too fast for that to be true. 

So Severus couldn't be terribly far. Harry just had to find him. 

Albus had said that the tiny mirror attached to his hat would solve that, but Harry wasn't getting any sort of feeling from it. "North? South?" he tried asking, staring into the mirror, which still showed nothing but sky. No answer. Raising the hat closer to his face, he gave it a good hard shake. "Where to? _Where?_ " 

Still, no answer. 

Frustrated, Harry laid his wand flat on his open palm and pulled hard on his twice-filled powers, _demanding_ they do his bidding. "Point me Severus Snape!" 

The wand spun about so fast that it rubbed Harry's palm raw, until it felt like his skin was burning, but Harry gritted his teeth until the wand finally stopped. Fat lot of good that did him; the stupid wand ended up pointing to Harry's left, which was probably north in any case. Harry cursed. What had made him think he could invent new spells on the spot, just because they sounded useful? All _Point Me_ ever did was show you which way was north! 

What good were his vast powers if he couldn't find a way to use them, now? What could he do, summon Severus to him? That seemed like a terrible idea, though. Summoning spells were violent by nature. Severus wasn't a broom or wand. He wasn't designed to bodily careen through the forest; he might bang into things on the way. At high speed. 

All right, so calm down, _calm down_ , and think of a better spell . . . 

The hat in his hands seemed to be twitching slightly. Hardly noticeable. Harry certainly had no idea what it might mean. _Ah._ So that was the trick. The hat--or mirror, rather--would lead him if he was calm enough to hear what it had to say. Harry took a deep breath, shaking out his legs a little, trying to work his tension out, and then, he concentrated hard on sensation, on the feel of his own hands as he held the hat perfectly still. Listening. Really listening. 

And watching, of course, but the tiny crescent mirror was still showing nothing but a solid patch of blue. Harry glanced up, to see that the sky above him was looked to be the exact same colour. Severus was somewhere near here . . . 

"Come on, now," said Harry in a coaxing tone, when before he'd been almost growling at the mirror. "I know I'm not Albus, but you can do it, you can show me . . ." 

The hat quivered, and then gave a distinct tug as the mirror on it tried to drag the hat in the right direction. In the _opposite_ direction from the way his wand had pointed. 

Harry took off at a run again, his gaze sweeping the countryside. He wasn't sure where he was, really. Somewhere dotted with trees. When he reached a small lake, he stopped to listen to the mirror again. 

He felt a tug east. A gentler one, that time, which he took to mean that he should walk instead of run. "Severus!" he called, skirting the edge of the lake as he strode forward. "Severus! Are you near here?" 

No answer, none. Harry couldn’t hear anything except the cawing of water birds in the middle of the lake. 

But then he rounded a bend and saw a little bit of black fabric in the far distance. _Severus' robe, the rest of it behind that boulder . . ._

Harry broke into a run. "Severus! Severus!" 

It was Severus, all right, lying behind the boulder, face down, part of a shredded robe flung up over the back of his head. The rest of his clothes were ripped and torn, too, huge parts of them missing. Oh God, _splinched._

The mirror lay to one side of him, facing the cloudless sky, but reflecting the concern on Harry's face. Harry dropped Albus' hat to the cold ground and fell to his knees beside Severus. 

He peeled back the robe covering Severus' head, shaking the man's shoulder all the while. Gently, though. He didn't understand what had happened here, though it did seem that only Severus' clothing had been splinched, not the man himself. "Severus? It's Harry. It's _over_ , Severus. You're safe, we're safe, we're all safe . . ." 

No reaction. 

None. 

It didn't even look like Severus was breathing. 

_Oh, God. Oh, no_. Harry gritted his teeth again, holding back the surge of panic trying to swamp him. Surge, hell. Tidal wave, more like. And that wasn't what Severus needed now, was it? 

Moving cautiously, Harry gently slid his hands beneath Severus' chest and levered him onto his side, and then his back. No reaction to that, either. Worse, when Harry laid a hand on his chest, he couldn't feel a heartbeat. 

Harry pushed a pair of fingers against the place where Severus' pulse beat in his throat. He knew the exact spot, after all the times he'd teased that spot while they were making love. He loved to feel Severus' pulse accelerate, loved to feel it thudding hard during the man's climax . . . 

But now, he couldn't feel it at all. 

"I won't let you die," Harry said through clenched teeth. "Think you can die and leave me, do you? _Ennervate!_ " 

If anything, the incantation only seemed to make Severus crumple further. But that was probably because the spell hadn't been strong enough. Just a regular spell . . . Harry hadn't wanted to make Severus' heart explode with shock, after all. 

But desperate times called for desperate measures, so Harry stood up and braced himself, wand hand fully extended, and reached for his twice-filled powers, their crossed powers, that part of Severus that he could call to him at will-- 

Something _popped_ behind him, but Harry paid it no mind, not even when the noise repeated. 

"No, Harry, no!" said a voice, urgently, as Albus reached forward to grasp his arm, forcing his hand down until his wand pointed at the ground instead of at Severus. "You mustn't!" 

Harry _snarled_ as he whirled around to face the headmaster. Kingsley Shacklebolt was there too, but Harry couldn’t spare time to even greet him. "Severus needs help!" 

"Yes, but not that kind," said Albus quickly, reaching for his hat. " _Portus._ There, Harry. This will take you directly to Hogwarts' hospital wing where Poppy will be waiting. Go with Severus. But do not, _do not,_ cast anything, not anything at all. Not even regular magic, Harry. Severus is drained too far already." 

_Drained too far already._ Albus hadn't said the rest, but Harry heard it clanging inside his own mind. _Drained all the way, until there's nothing left._

A cold hand clenched him. All those spells, one after another-- _violent_ spells. _Avada Kedavra._ Damn it, _Avada Kedavra_ more than once, even! And every one of those spells had been draining Severus of his power. Draining him more and more and more, while he lay helpless, crumpled, while his heart stopped from the stress . . . 

_The more we ask the more he gives . . . and we must seek to see he lives._

His hand shaking, Harry passed Severus' wand to Albus, and then his own. He could get it back when it was safe to cast again, when it wouldn't hurt Severus. 

_The valiant man shall give his all . . ._

And Severus had. Severus, not Harry. 

Kneeling beside Severus again, Harry gathered his limp form into his arms before he reached out and took hold of the Portkey. 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, December 29, 1998 ---- 8:52 a.m.**

****

"He's been drained of magic," Harry gasped, laying Severus down on the nearest bed. Poppy hurried over. "Drained too far, I can cast with his and mine both but I went too far with it--" 

"I understand, Harry. Let me examine him." 

Harry fell silent, watching as she cast a series of diagnostic spells. Not that he could stay silent for long. "Is he breathing at all, is he alive? Is he _dead?_ " 

"Quiet." Poppy flicked her wand, and a bottle of potion appeared in one of her hands. "He's not breathing, no," she said, her wand transfiguring itself to a spoon as she spoke. She poured a small measure of greyish liquid out. "And his heart isn't beating. But we may be able to change that. Help me prop him up." 

Harry angled Severus' torso up, wriggling so he could hold him from behind. He couldn't see much from behind the man's back, but he knew the exact moment when Poppy pried Severus' mouth open and thrust the spoon between his lips. 

Severus jerked like those people on the telly. The ones who'd just had electrical paddles put to their chest. 

Whatever she'd done to shock him back into life, it seemed to have done the trick. His back began to rise and fall, quickly, like he was out of breath and panting. 

"There, there," Harry heard Poppy croon, as the noise of something else being poured out hovered behind Severus' rapid breathing. "It's going to be fine, Severus. You've gone a little while without oxygen but this wonderful potion of yours will set you right as rain . . . That's right, then, ease it down, ease it down . . ." 

A gurgling noise, then, and a gulp, and Severus' breathing began to calm. 

"Let him down, now," Poppy advised. 

Harry carefully moved out from behind and took a good look at Severus. Ashen features, his eyes looking sunken in his skull, but he was breathing well now, deep strong breaths as his chest moved up and down. 

Harry sank into a chair and smiled. "Oh, good. Brilliant. You're going to be all right." 

No answer. 

_Oh, God._ A sinking feeling seemed to plunge Harry completely underwater. Severus wasn't even looking at him, he was just staring at the ceiling, his lips slack, a little bit of drool actually dripping down the side of his face. He didn't seem to have even noticed it, even if he was too weak to wipe it away, himself. 

And that wasn't like Severus. 

Harry reached up to wipe away the moisture streaking Severus' face, but Severus didn't appear to realise he'd been touched. Or that Harry was there, or . . . 

Jumping out of his chair, Harry leaned over him to look into his black eyes. Vacant black eyes. "Do you know me? Do you know what's happened, where you are? Say something, Severus!" 

Poppy reached across the bed to settle a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "None of that, now. He's fine." 

"Fine!" Harry lurched back to get away from her hand. _Patting_ him now, as if that would make any difference. "He's . . . he's _gone_ even though he's here!" 

"He stopped breathing for too long and his brain sustained some damage," she calmly corrected. "But Harry, I would think that you of all people would know how fine a hospital this school has. He will be perfectly well again. You need to let that potion have a chance to heal him." 

Panic clawed at Harry again. "What-- what if it doesn't?" 

"It will. Severus made it, after all." 

Harry sank back into his chair and nodded, dully. Yeah, she was right. Of course she was. Severus would never stock the infirmary with an inferior potion. If he'd brought it up here then it was guaranteed to work, exactly as it should. 

Waiting for it to do that, though . . . that was damned difficult. 

Poppy disappeared into the storeroom for a moment, then emerged with a plaster for Harry's hand. He'd forgotten all about it, but when he looked down and saw the way his wand had rubbed him raw, it started hurting again. 

Oh, better. The plaster had obviously been soaked in a tincture or something, or maybe just doused in magic; the moment Harry stuck it on, his palm started to feel a lot better. 

"Any other places needing healing, Harry?" 

"No. Thanks, though." Harry thought back a bit. "Um . . . sorry I screamed at you like that. This is a very fine infirmary and I know we all have you to thank for it." 

She patted his shoulder again, and that time, Harry found he didn't even mind. 

"You looked like you were expecting us," he said, realizing that she shouldn't even be at Hogwarts, just now. "Or somebody, anyway. You didn't go back to Milan on holiday, after all?" 

"Oh, I did, but came back yesterday at Albus' request. Though I dare say the headlines this morning would have sent me back here on their own. Dumbledore captured . . . yes, I'd have known to expect trouble out of _that_." 

For a second, Harry though Albus was important enough that the Italian papers had reported him missing, too. But no, that wasn't right. Albus had sent his letter only to the _Prophet_. Obviously, she must get the paper while she was abroad. 

And just as obviously, stress and worry and maybe the aftermath of the battle were all catching up to him, since he couldn't think straight. "He explained what he was doing?" 

"No, he merely told me to be ready for patients." Her voice went more quiet. "Though he did mention Severus' periodic bouts of weakness, and asked me to review what little is known of the enchantment you both are under." 

"I'm the one under it, not him," said Harry in a tired voice. Once, he probably would have spat the words, if he could manage to say them at all, to anyone besides his closest friends. Now, he was used to the idea. And Poppy knew more than she was saying, anyway, didn't she? 

"Oh, you're both subject to it," said Poppy, her skirts swaying as she turned to look down at the bed. "You couldn't pull magic out of him, otherwise." 

That was one way to look at it, Harry supposed. Severus was looking better, anyway. His colour wasn't back to normal, but it was less grey than before, and his mouth was closed. But he still looked a right mess, laying there in torn clothes with all the buttons missing. Somehow, Severus looked wrong without those long rows of buttons. "Do you have some pyjamas or a nightshirt? I think I'd better clean him up, a bit." 

"Oh, I'll see to that--" 

"No, I'll do it," interrupted Harry. "I want to. And don't worry, I won't use any magic." 

She brought him what he needed, then went into her office and closed the door. Harry stripped Severus and sponged him off, hoping this was helping him feel better even if he couldn't say so, then got him into the nightshirt Poppy had supplied. When his hair was brushed, too, Harry tucked him in and sat back down to watch and wait. 

Not long after that, Albus stepped through the open door. "How is he?" 

Harry looked blearily up. "Um, out of it, but Poppy swears he'll be fine. Thanks for stopping me from casting again. And for the Portkey to get us here, so I didn't have to Apparate. One more serious draw on his power might have . . . well, it wouldn't have been a good thing, that's for sure." 

Albus feathered a touch along Severus' cheek, the motion reminding Harry of what Albus had done while Voldemort was dying. But then, Severus had been his student, too. Just like Harry had been. 

And Albus cared about all his students, Harry suddenly knew. Even the ones gone terribly wrong. 

"And how are you?" asked Albus, very softly, a chair skittering to him as he lifted his hand. He sat down in it, close alongside Harry, but where they could both watch Severus. 

"I'm all right. I'm glad it's over. Uh, everything under control, then, with the . . ." 

"Oh yes, the Aurors have it all well in hand." 

Harry swallowed, a part of him twisting at the image that came to him. He'd wanted to be an Auror so much! But now . . . no. _No_. He didn't want a life of fighting evil. Severus could probably arrange it . . . he was pretty clever when it came to working inside _Cambiare Podentes,_ but Harry felt like he'd been an Auror of sorts ever since he'd come to Hogwarts. He'd had enough of it. 

Still, he had to ask. "All those Death Eaters are in Azkaban by now?" 

"Awaiting trial." 

"And Voldemort . . . he _is_ really dead, isn't he?" 

"Yes." Albus smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Really, truly dead, Harry." 

"Do I have to go on trial, too?" Harry swallowed. "Neither Severus nor you ever brought it up, but I do know which spells are technically illegal . . ." 

"Oh, Harry . . ." Albus shook his head. "I wish you didn't have such cause for distrust. No, no. This once, I promise you, the Ministry will treat you with respect and dignity, as they should have done, all along." 

"Ha, if they don't run screaming in horror," muttered Harry. Because this was it, now, wasn't it? "They'll interrogate those Death Eaters. Veritaserum, right? And they'll tell what they saw, what they saw me _do_. The Ministry will figure out about the Horcruxes, and wonder how I could possibly have managed to kill him, and--" Harry slumped back. "Maybe you should just write another letter to the _Prophet_ and be done with it." 

"I don't think that would be the best approach." 

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "But I actually do think we'd better announce or explain or something, before somebody stumbles across the truth on their own . . . it's like with the _Quibbler_ , you know? I'd rather have some control over how things are put." 

"Life . . .alter . . . de--" 

Severus' voice. Weak, rasping . . . barely there at all. But he'd clearly been able to understand the conversation, and give a sensible reply. _Life-altering decision,_ of course. Harry had to talk it all over with Severus before deciding to announce anything to the world at large. 

"Welcome back," said Harry warmly, moving to take Severus by the hand. The other man's fingers clutched his, just briefly, before falling away. "And you're right, of course. That would be a life-altering decision, so I won't do a thing about it until we decide together. But Severus, don't talk now, all right? I can tell it's exhausted you. But you saw what happened? In the mirror? Just nod." 

Severus shook his head, the motion tiny. "App-- App--" 

"Now, Severus," said Poppy, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Well, she always had known when her patients needed her. Or needed advice. "Harry said not to talk and he's quite right, you know. Don't strain yourself. Rest is the very best thing." 

Severus' eyes narrowed, but clearly she was right, since he was too tired to protest. 

"You tried to Apparate," said Harry, distracting him from it. He could see now, what must have happened. "And I probably cast something just at that instant and pulled you out of it. I . . . sorry, then. Your clothing was splinched beyond repair, but at least you pulled through all right." 

It wasn't hard to guess the rest, after that. Once the battle had begun, Harry's repeated spells had kept Severus weakened and drained, unable to Apparate further. Unable to even turn over, or look in the mirror. And then that tremendous _Avada,_ the one that had built up inside Voldemort and then shot out in several directions . . . that must have been the spell that had harmed Severus. The one that had sucked his magic out so fiercely that his heart had stopped from the drain. 

A good thing Albus had found them and whipped up a Portkey, Harry thought again. "How _did_ you locate us, anyway?" he suddenly asked the headmaster. "The button you'd charmed was gone, by then." 

An amused look flitted across Albus' wrinkled features. "Oh, I think I can find my own hat, wherever it may be." 

Severus had enough strength to chuckle briefly. 

Another good sign. Poppy had known what she was about; Severus _was_ going to be right as rain. Well, as long as Harry didn't drain him any further while he was still laid up. "How long do you think I have to avoid magic?" he quietly asked Albus. 

"You can probably cast again now, though I certainly wouldn't recommend any twice-filled spells for a while longer." 

Harry wrinkled his brow, remembering how Severus had seemed to crumple when Harry had cast a simple _Ennervate_. The spell had only used his own magic, not their crossed powers, but still, Severus had been affected. "How did you know that even regular magic might hurt him when he was so weakened?" 

Albus folded his hands together. "I didn't know for certain. But it seemed a good precaution. His magical state is linked to yours, and the spell you're under can be unpredictable." 

Yeah, Harry understood that well enough. But he was used to it now, so he shrugged. "The Aurors have to talk to me, I suppose?" 

"I'm sure they'll want to once they've dealt with their prisoners. Quite a lot of Death Eaters at once. And too, Kingsley has come here so he can report back that you're in hospital and that it will take you some time to recover." 

Well, that was good. It would give Harry time to decide everything with Severus. It was his life, too, after all. Which reminded him. 

"If they want to give me a stupid Order of Merlin then I want Severus to have one, too." 

"I'm sure that can be arranged." Albus stood up, briefly clasping Severus' hand in his own as he spoke. "My boys . . . I can not tell you how much, how proud, how . . . " As a handkerchief appeared in his hand, Albus began dabbing at the corner of his eye. "There simply aren't words for what you have done. Both of you. I . . . I have no words." 

He let himself quietly out the door. Harry caught a glimpse of Shacklebolt waiting outside, but he didn't try to come in. In fact, he closed the door as Albus began walking down the corridor. 

"First time for everything," drawled Severus, sounding much more like himself. "Albus, speechless." 

" _You're_ supposed to be speechless at the moment," Harry said. "You sit there and listen, and I'll explain how it all went." 

Severus began shaking his head. 

"You don't want to know?" 

"You needn't talk of it--" Severus started coughing, and didn't stop until Poppy spooned some elixir into him. Then he scowled, probably because she had her hands on her hips and looked about to launch into a five-minute lecture. 

"He won't talk again," said Harry quickly. "I won't let him." 

"See that you don't, then," she said crisply, before leaving them alone again. 

Severus looked mulish, but instead of talking, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Harry. 

It took Harry a second to remember where they'd been. Oh, right. "I can talk about it," he said. "Parts were awful, but . . . yeah, I want you to know everything." 

Fifteen minutes later, Severus did. 

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  



	52. Chapter 52

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Wednesday, December 30, 1998 ---- 8:10 a.m.**

****

"You're looking better," said Harry as he pulled a chair up to Severus' bedside. "How are you feeling?" 

Severus scowled, wondering if he should tell the absolute truth. He decided he might as well. "As though my innards have been pulled out through my teeth." 

"Oh, _ouch._ Sorry about that." 

"And shoved inside again, backwards," added Severus. "Why are you so far away?" 

Harry scooted his chair a little closer, the look in his green eyes rueful. "You know, I expected you to get dizzy and weak during the final battle, faint maybe, but I had no idea the Killing Curse would affect you that much." 

At that, Severus sighed, his voice heavy as he replied. "How could you? There's no book to guide us through this. Even the _précis_ is of limited use. You aren't a weak wizard, after all." 

"Um, yeah." Harry fished something out of a deep pocket in his robe. "And it looks like word on that's going to be getting around. Do you want to read the front page? Or should I read to you?" 

Severus held up his hands, fingers splayed. "Perhaps you should. I'm still feeling a bit shaky." 

"Can I ever sympathise with that," murmured Harry, the paper making a crinkling noise as he unfolded it and began to read.   
  


> > ### YOU-KNOW-WHO DEAD AT BOY-WHO-LIVED'S HAND
>> 
>> Top Aurors are reporting that He-Who-Etc. has been utterly destroyed by none other than Harry Potter, also known as the Chosen. When asked how Magical Law Enforcement could be sure that You-Know-Who is permanently gone, Kingsley Shacklebolt of the Auror Corps had this to say: "It seems he was using an ancient form of longevity magic known as Horcruxes. A Horcrux is a highly illegal magical object almost impossible to create, but somehow he managed. Mr Potter's genius is that he simultaneously destroyed both [name redacted] and all his Horcruxes, therefore ending him, once and for all." 
>> 
>> _MLE had no official comment as to how Harry Potter learned about You-Know-Who's Horcruxes or how he destroyed them. There is no question, however, of why young Harry attacked when he did. As reported yesterday, Albus Dumbledore, esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts, had been taken captive by Death Eaters. Harry Potter launched a daring rescue which culminated in the death of You-Know-Who and the capture of sixteen of his top followers (see page 4). Insiders at the Ministry, privy to the ongoing interrogations of the captured Death Eaters, have mentioned claims of "the Killing Curse gone berserk," though Veritaserum questioning is reportedly going very slowly due to bouts of hysteria among the prisoners._
>> 
>> _Mr Potter cannot be reached for comment as he is presently recuperating from his ordeal._   
>    
> 

"I'm sorry they didn't even mention you, Severus," said Harry as he laid the paper aside. "That's not right. You were as big a part of this as I was. It was even your own wand that finally ended it all." 

"They won't know I was involved until the rest of the truth is disclosed." 

Harry made a scoffing noise. "Well, they probably won't report it right, even then. I mean, look at this tripe. I did not rescue Albus! They have to know that by now, if they've talked to Kingsley. He'd have told them it was all a trap." 

"You don't expect the _Daily Prophet_ to admit that they were hoodwinked, surely?" 

"No, guess not. They're pretty stubborn. Right down to _name redacted_ instead of printing what Shacklebolt really said. Well, the _Quibbler_ will do it better, when we're ready. I'm going to give them _all_ the exclusives." Harry cleared his throat. "Um . . . how long do you think we have? I don't want anybody digging up that certificate before I'm ready." 

"I've no idea." Severus struggled to sit up more, but he didn't have much strength. "Are you anxious about it?" 

"Not really . . . well, yes, but not like before. You were right. It won't make any difference to my real friends." 

"Speaking of whom," said Severus, jerking his head. Harry's back was to the door, but Severus could see both his best friends standing just outside, clearly wondering if they should intrude. 

Harry turned around. "Oh, hallo. I guess you read the paper this morning?" 

Hermione ran across the length of the hospital wing and _threw_ herself into Harry's arms. "Oh Harry, _Harry!_ " she cried, hugging him tight. "I saw that and I was so worried! Where were you hurt? Are you sure you should be out of bed already? Do you need me to bring you something to read?" 

Harry wrapped his arms around her and patted the back of her head as she more-or-less sobbed against his shoulder. "I love you too, Hermione." 

Something inside Severus twisted, hearing those words emerge from Harry's lips. It wasn't jealousy, not this time. He knew exactly what Harry meant and what he didn't; he knew that Hermione Granger was Harry's close friend, nothing more. 

But still, something inside Severus twisted. 

"But I'm not hurt," Harry went on, setting her a little distance away. 

Hermione wiped at her eyes. "The paper said--" 

"When are you going to learn not to believe everything you read?" asked Ron, coming forward. "Harry's obviously fine, and that other was just put there so give him some room to breathe, right? You know he doesn't like talking to reporters!" As Hermione smiled and nodded, a little sheepishly, Ron gave Harry a clap on the shoulder. "Good job, mate! You did it!" 

" _We_ did it," said Harry, stepping closer to Severus' bedside again. 

_Yes, I am actually the injured party, here,_ Severus thought, a little peevishly. Perhaps he was slightly jealous, after all. Not over the comment Harry had made, but over the easy, friendly way he got on with his friends. The three of them blended like a brew coming together. 

"Severus is the one who got hurt," Harry went on, but he didn't explain how, which was just as well, as far as Severus was concerned. "The _Prophet_ doesn't know about our . . . contract yet. For the moment, we're keeping it that way. And . . . listen, I'm really glad to see you both, but I can't really talk or anything, not with Severus laid up--" 

"Oh, please," said Severus scornfully, though he was secretly pleased that Harry had chosen him over his friends. "I'm hardly infirm any longer. I need rest, not a nursemaid--" 

"He's _horrible_ when he's ill," said Harry in a voice full of good humour. "I'll owl you, all right? Later this week, when I have some time." 

"Go with your friends--" 

Instead of answering, Harry just sat down again, crossing his arms. If Severus had felt stronger, he'd have leaned over to kiss him. Perhaps not, though, since Weasley and Granger were still hovering. 

"Very good to see you, Profess-- er, Severus," said Hermione, really quite warmly. "Though I didn't expect to see you so soon after Christmas. Is there anything you need?" 

Oh. Severus hadn't expected that. To be . . . included, so easily. Thank Merlin, though, that Weasley didn't clap him on the shoulder as he'd done to Harry. Severus felt so weak, he might have toppled off the bed. 

"Looks like you took the brunt of it, eh?" said Ron, smiling in a way Severus found quite odd. Like he knew something. Or thought he did, at any rate. "But good job helping Harry. I know he doesn't need much looking after, considering, but it's good to know you'll be doing it anyway." 

"Oh, honestly, Ron," said Hermione in an exasperated tone. "We're wearing out our welcome." 

They took their leave then. Harry stared after them until they were gone, then blew out a breath that made his fringe fly up. "What was that about, do you think? With Ron?" 

"I've no idea." 

Harry nodded. "Have you had breakfast?" 

"An hour ago." 

"Oh. All right. Um . . . " 

Harry had that look on his face, the one that meant he had a lot to say, and wasn't saying it. Severus could tell from the way his forehead was scrunching up. "What?" 

"Well . . . I was wondering about something." 

"Any plans to wonder out loud?" 

Harry laughed, then quickly sobered. "It's not so funny. I keep thinking about your magic, actually. Draining it like that, so far down. I have a feeling that for a while there, I left you with nothing at all, and that made me wonder . . . oh, God. You _can_ do magic again, can't you? I've been feeling sick, worrying that I accidentally took it for good." 

"Don't be daft." 

"Did Albus give you your wand back, have you tried any spells, did they work all right?" 

"Yes, no, and of course they will." 

"Cast something," said Harry urgently. "Something easy . . . or did Poppy say not to?" 

"You really do worry too much. I'm sure I'm fine, if a bit on the weak side. But, if you insist, hand me my wand." Severus vaguely gestured toward the drawer where Albus had placed it, holding it loosely once Harry fetched it. He could barely manage the required movement as he incanted, " _Accio_ _Daily Prophet._ " 

It came flying toward him, but of course he couldn't move quickly enough to catch it. The paper ending up smacking him in the face. 

Harry quickly set it to one side. 

"Satisfied?" asked Severus, nostrils flaring. "Or do you need to see me set it ablaze?" 

"Not that it doesn't deserve that, but no," murmured Harry, leaning over to kiss Severus softly on the mouth. "Sorry about that. I should have caught it for you." 

"You should get over this idea that you have to save everyone from everything. That's all over with. You've done it." 

Harry smiled. "It'll never be _all_ over with. It's part of who I am. You should know that. But . . . I guess maybe it's mostly over with, now." 

"Good, because you deserve a proper holiday more than anyone I've ever met," said Severus, completely serious. 

Harry grinned. "Oh, Disneyworld. Brilliant. I can't wait, _can't wait--_ " 

"Do be sure to owl me about it--" 

Harry's grin only got wider. "As if I'd think of going without you." 

"Well, you did say you _can't wait_ , and I'm not in shape at present to--" 

"All right, I _can_ wait." Harry laughed. "It's our celebration, you know. _Ours._ So . . . er, any word from Poppy on when you'll have your full strength back?" 

"Just in time to greet the students returning to classes," said Severus, a little sourly. It wasn't that he wanted to go to this Disneyworld, but he _did_ want to visit the Everglades, as he'd said. And he wanted time away from Hogwarts, time for he and Harry to be alone. But that would have to wait, he supposed. 

Harry's expression fell. "That long? Bollocks." 

Severus' sentiments entirely, but he tried to make light of the disappointment. "Well, it's not every day a man dies and is brought violently back to life, you realise. I should probably wait a while before I undertake any magical form of travel." His lips quirked. "And no, I am not going to travel by aeroplane, instead." 

Harry didn't smile at the joke. In fact, he looked deeply, deeply shocked. Like his thoughts had hit a wall and then started again with a jolt. When he glanced up, his gaze was almost stricken, but somewhere deep inside it, there was a glimmer of hope. 

No . . . what he looked like most was a man afraid to hope. 

"I . . . oh, my God. You _died?_ " 

Severus nodded, the motion diffident. He'd been through this with Poppy already. "My heart stopped, as you know, and for a few moments, my magic was entirely missing. That's the generally accepted definition of death in wizarding Britain." 

Harry's mouth opened and closed like he was trying to figure out what to say. 

"I'm hardly the first wizard brought back, Harry," Severus explained, in case that was what had him looking so shocked. "That potion she administered to start my heart, it's in common use--" 

"No, no . . ." Harry cleared his throat, then drew his wand and cast a series of privacy charms. Then he turned to Severus, his green eyes about as vulnerable as Severus had ever seen. "You said, you said that only death could end _Podentes_." 

"Oh. Yes, of course." Several feelings collided inside Severus, then. Pride, because he was impressed that Harry had thought of that before he himself had. Relief, because some large part of him did want Harry to be set free. But also . . . fear, because he'd lose Harry, wouldn't he, if death had ended the enchantment? 

Why would Harry choose to be with _him_ , when Harry would have the whole world at his feet? The whole world to choose from? 

Harry started rubbing his hands together. "Oh, I can't believe this. I was ready, you know, to keep on just like before. I'd accepted it, but now, to know that it's _gone_ and I'm _free--_ " 

Fear clenched Severus' heart until he thought it would stop again. And this time, it wasn't fear for himself. "No, you can't assume that. It's dangerous. If you should break the contract and the spell still is in force--" 

Harry's hands abruptly stilled. "Right, yes. Of course. We have to test it somehow, find out . . . well, I suppose you could cast _Compulsio_ so we could make sure, but that's a pretty demanding spell, isn't it--" 

"A bit beyond me at the moment, yes." Severus didn't want to do this, didn't want to know. And yet, he _did_ , because Harry had to know, one way or the other. "Would you light the candle on my night table? It was a gift from Albus and has a rather pleasant scent." 

"Oh, sure." Harry flicked his wand and said the spell, but nothing happened. 

Severus closed his eyes on the sudden rush of pain that shot straight through him. Pain . . . and something shameful, too. Relief. Because it seemed he wouldn't have to face his worst fear, after all. 

Instead, Harry would have to face his. 

"That's odd," said Harry, trying it again. And again. 

"I'm stopping you," said Severus, his voice rough. Knowing that Harry shouldn't be alone for this, not even in spirit, he opened his eyes and struggled to sit up. "You're still . . ." 

Harry swallowed, pressing his lips tightly together as he pocketed his wand. It took a moment before he could speak, and then, his voice was as rough as Severus' had been. "A slave, right. Your slave. Yeah." 

"I'm sorry," said Severus, reaching out a hand. 

Harry took it, but he hesitated first. "Are you? I thought . . . I thought you didn't mind having me around, so much. Not any longer." 

_Oh, for Merlin's sake._ "I'm sorry for your sake, of course. For mine, I do like having you around, as you put it." 

Harry gave a stiff nod, like he was deeply, deeply dismayed and determined not to show it. 

"It's all right to be disappointed," said Severus, though that small, selfish part of him was still flooding with relief, no matter that Harry could hardly feel the same. He did his best to push the feeling away, to see the matter through Harry's eyes. "Or angry, even. If you ask me, you've every reason to be. You've done more than anyone has a right to ask, and you deserve to have your life back." 

"No, I'm not angry." Harry ran his other hand through his hair, mussing it. "I just . . . I'd accepted everything, Severus. And then, to have that one moment when I thought things might change, and then to have it snatched away . . . " Harry's jaw clenched. Obviously, he was more upset than he was willing to admit. 

Seeing the pain the other man was in, the pain he was fighting back, seeing his essential strength, his sheer _nobility . . ._ a yawing need opened up inside Severus. A need to make this right for Harry, no matter what that took. "Things _can_ change," he said quickly, squeezing Harry's fingers. "A different job, a different place to live if you like . . . anything you need. We'll work it out. I promise, Harry. I promise you that." 

By the time he'd finished speaking, Harry was looking resigned. Or bemused, perhaps. "You don't need to promise any longer, Severus. I know we'll work it out. I never once thought otherwise." 

"Harry--" 

"It's all right, really," he said, shrugging as he let go of Severus' hand. "I told you I'd already got used to the idea. You don't have to worry that I'll do something stupid, like I talked about that once. I want to live. And life with you, Severus . . . it's a good life." 

_A good life_. But not the _best_ life. Not the life Harry necessarily wanted. Hearing what Harry had meant, but hadn't said, only made Severus feel worse. How could he have secretly rejoiced that Harry was still bound to him? How could he have been that selfish? 

But the truth was, some part of him still _was,_ even as he exclaimed, "I did in fact die. You should have been set free! I wonder what went wrong. I can't see how your being a strong wizard would affect this aspect of the spell." 

"I don't think it would," said Harry, sighing. "I think the problem is that you didn't really die. Your heart stopped, sure, but _real_ death, true death . . . the Muggles on the telly call it brain death, I think." 

"We aren't Muggles, and neither were the wizards who constructed this spell." 

"Yeah, but think about it. Death is permanent, so if anything can bring you back, how can you be fully dead? I think you weren't. The spell thinks you weren't." Harry swallowed, looking away for a brief moment. "And Severus . . . I didn't want you dead, you know. So . . . s'all right." 

_I didn't want you dead._

Not quite what Severus wanted to hear. "Harry--" 

"I was going to sit with you some more," interrupted Harry, "and read to you or something, but I think I need to be alone. Go flying or something. I . . . I'll come by later, all right?" 

With that, he was gone, and Severus was left to stare at the door, slowly closing behind him. 

  
  
  
  



	53. Chapter 53

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, December 31, 1998 ---- 9:20 a.m.**

****

"Quidditch section for you," said Severus, passing it across the table. 

Harry took it, but frowned. It looked to him like Severus was having a hard time sitting in a chair. He was holding himself stiffly, as though he might slide off the moment he relaxed. "You shouldn't have got up for breakfast. Poppy only let you come down here last night because I promised to take good care of you." 

"No need. I'm fine. You can go flying again, if you wish." 

For once, that had no appeal at all. Harry had flown yesterday for _hours_ , after he'd found out that he was still enslaved, after all. He didn't know why the idea should bother him, so much. He _had_ accepted it, already. He hadn't gone into that battle dreaming he might be earning his freedom. He'd known when he'd invoked that the binding would be for life, and in the months since, he'd learned to live with that. 

By fits and starts, sometimes, but it had all worked out in the end. He'd been happy with Severus, really. 

But then, to think for one brilliant, shining moment that he could be free again, after all, able to do whatever he wanted with his life, go where he wanted, live where he wanted . . . 

It had been like his heart had blazed to life inside him, bathing him in light and energy and perfect, perfect joy. 

And then that light had all gone out, leaving him in . . .well, not darkness. Life with Severus was good, and it would go on being good. Hell, it could only get better from here on out, now that he didn't have the threat of Voldemort hanging over him. 

But not to be able to _choose . . ._ that bothered him, even if he'd accepted long ago that what was, _was_ , just as Severus always said. 

"No flying," said Harry, sighing. "Though I guess I should start figuring out the new practise schedule for the teams. I told them I wanted to coach in the mornings, before classes start. That way, when I'm done in Defence, the rest of the day can be mine. Or ours, I mean." 

"Harry--" 

Whatever he had been going to say was interrupted by a knock on the upstairs door. Harry grimaced. He'd loved seeing Ron and Hermione the day before, but he really didn't want to talk about the battle to anybody besides Severus. Maybe he should, though. Maybe if he did, he would start feeling like it had been real. 

Right now, it all seemed sort of like a dream. Was Voldemort gone, really? So hard to believe, when Harry had lived with his spectre ever since he'd found out he was a wizard. Of course, he _was_ gone; Harry knew that. Severus' Dark Mark had disappeared completely, and the scar on Harry's forehead was fading, so much now that he had to look closely at the mirror to even spot it. 

"I'll get that," said Harry, before Severus could stand. "You . . . well, you should be in bed, if you ask me." 

Severus carefully lifted a slice of toast to his lips, and didn't answer. 

Sighing, Harry went upstairs and pulled open the door. "Oh . . . hallo, Headmaster." 

"We have a bit of a situation, I'm afraid," said Albus, shaking his head. "I'd like to speak with you and Severus, together." 

_A bit of a situation._ "If you're here to tell me that that git isn't dead after all--" 

"He's dead, never to return." Albus' gaze flicked toward Harry's fringe. "You're living proof." 

"And Severus," said Harry. 

"Yes, you're in this together, as I said." 

"Come on down." 

When they reached the table, Severus tried to stand, but Albus shook his head. "No, no, you should be resting, I understand." 

"What's the situation you mentioned?" asked Harry. 

The headmaster sat down himself, and began to stroke his long beard. "I'm sorry that it's come to this. I know that you and Harry may have preferred more time to consider your options, but I'm afraid that a young clerk at the Ministry has rather fouled that." 

"The Ministry," said Harry, a bad feeling beginning to crawl through him. 

"Yes, you see, Harry's been charged with illegal spell use--" 

Harry shot to his feet, that bad feeling almost making his hair stand on end, by then. "You said I wouldn't have to stand trial!" 

"You _won't_ ," said Severus in a dark voice. "How could they possibly make you?" 

"I'm not using crossed powers ever again, not after seeing what they did to you!" 

"Boys, boys," said Albus calmly, a little bit of a smile playing about his mouth, "please do let me continue. Harry won't be standing trial, no. But in order to clear their records, the Ministry needed to charge him formally, then declare the spell use justified." 

"Charge him formally," said Severus slowly. "I see." 

"What?" Harry looked from Albus to Severus and back. 

"The charge refuses to stick," said Albus, hands clasped, eyes intense. "Your name keeps falling off the parchment. They don't understand what is happening. Rumours are beginning to fly about, that after killing Voldemort, you've become so powerful that the Ministry is nothing to you. That you're interfering with its internal workings." 

"Why would . . ." It suddenly came to him. _Cambiare Podentes,_ of course. The declaration of slavery. Harry had renounced his status as a person; he'd agreed to become chattel. Property. 

And you couldn’t charge _property_ with wrongdoing, could you? A table couldn't stand trial. Or a pet . . . 

The law was just for citizens and visitors in wizarding Britain, and Harry wasn't either, any longer. 

"I guess we'd better cut this off before word gets out and it becomes a real panic," he said, sighing as he turned to Severus. "How do we do it?" 

Severus took a moment to think about that. "We could release a statement, but unless you speak personally to the press, the _Prophet_ is bound to think the statement a fraud. Particularly after Albus' ruse." 

Harry nodded. "Yeah, and they'll keep printing rubbish. Probably _try_ to stir up a froth against me." 

Albus' voice was very soft. "Very wise, Harry. From what Kingsley said, the Minister was disgruntled that you didn't see him yesterday. No matter that the Aurors have told him you needed to recover from the battle." 

"Scrimgeour just wants to use me to boost his popularity. Of course I didn't want to see him. Probably unavoidable, though, in the long run . . ." Harry stood up, rigid with determination. If he'd been set free, then maybe all of this could somehow be avoided, but as it was . . . well, it had to be faced, sooner or later. 

And just like with Voldemort, Harry wanted it _over_. The moment he'd got those crossed powers working as they should, he hadn't been able to wait one moment more. Though now, he was grateful that Severus had stopped him from going with the _stand-on-street-corners_ plan. That really hadn't been the best approach. 

Now, though, Voldemort was dead and there was no more strategic use in keeping their binding a secret. If it could stay a secret forever, that would be better, but that probably wasn't possible. So . . . time to get it over with. 

"All right, get the reporters here. From every publication that wants to send someone. I wanted to give the _Quibbler_ a whole set of exclusives but I'd rather put the _Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_ and the wireless or whoever else in the position of having to print what I say, for once, to keep up with the competition. You think . . . three o'clock would work, Severus?" 

He added that last bit because this was one of those _life-altering decisions_ he had to watch out for. And also, because it was Severus' life, too. Besides, the other man was still feeling rough. 

"Three o'clock would be fine," Severus said. "Do you want help drafting a statement?" 

"No, I think better on my feet. Though I wouldn't mind talking over what they might ask." 

"I shall begin sending the owls," said Albus, standing. "And I must commend you both, though I still don't feel I have the words. Perhaps . . . perhaps we should cancel classes, in celebration. For an additional week." His gaze softened further, though that was hardly possible. "But first, I'm afraid, the truth must come out." 

Once he was gone, Harry looked to where Severus was still sitting. It wasn't like him not to see the headmaster out, or at least stand up as the man left, which told Harry how very weak he must be feeling. 

"All right, bed for you," he said firmly, determined not to take _no_ for an answer. "I'll bring in your breakfast, and some lunch later, so by three you'll look your best for the press. You're going to get your picture on the front pages, you know." 

Severus grumbled, but he must have thought Harry right, since he didn't make any sort of real protest. 

Harry brought their food through as he'd said, and started picking Severus' brain as to the best way to handle the questions soon to come. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, December 31, 1998 ---- 3:02 p.m.**

The Great Hall had been cleared of student tables, leaving only the head table, perched on its dais at the front. 

Harry looked left and right, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. And no wonder. He and Severus were seated next to each other, alone at the centre of the long table, while Albus stood off to one side. 

Meanwhile, the Great Hall looked like it was fairly swimming with people. Harry saw a few reporters he recognized, their pads of parchment at the ready, and almost sighed. But of course, not everyone out there was from the press. He saw the Weasleys, all of them except Percy, to one side, and Hermione with them, holding Ron's hand. And there were other old friends of his, and students too, here and there, some with their parents, and all of the teachers. When Harry spotted Bryerson, he gave the man a slight nod. 

David Bryerson responded by pointing at the rounded woman next to him, and mouthing something. _Eloise,_ it looked like. 

Harry nodded at her, too, to be polite. 

He felt considerably less so when he spotted Percy Weasley, looking sour-faced as he stood beside Rufus Scrimgeour. Well, it wasn't every day that the Minister wasn't going to be the centre of attention. This, obviously, would be one of those days. 

Turning slightly, Harry faced Severus. "Maybe we shouldn't have done things this way." 

"Nervous?" 

"No, but I never thought there'd be so _many_ people--" 

"It's your day. I'd advise you to enjoy it," said Severus dryly. "And Harry, the moment the press was invited en masse like that, this whole event became something of a public property." 

"Like I'm about to become a public property," muttered Harry. 

Severus dropped his voice, and spoke very, very quietly. "No, you're not." 

Of course not; he would always belong to Severus alone. Harry didn't let that thought dismay him. It just _was_. 

Harry had told Albus what he'd like him to say to start the proceedings, and Albus did basically as asked, though he did embellish quite a bit. "Wizards and witches," he abruptly said, his wand pressed to his throat. "Your attention, please. As you know, the dark wizard Tom Riddle was finally vanquished the day before yesterday, in a fierce battle involving over a dozen Death Eaters. But those loyal to the cause of light held firm, no matter the sacrifice required. And there were two wizards who did more than anyone else to ensure this outcome, the greatest event of our age. Yes, _two_. Ladies and gentlemen, students and staff, members of the press and public, I present to you the destroyers of Voldemort: Harry James Potter and Severus Tobias Snape!" 

The audience burst out into riotous clapping made louder than usual through the use of spells. Fred and George had obviously passed out fireworks beforehand, since at that same moment, the noise of shooting rockets filled the hall as starbursts exploded overhead. 

But then, as the initial celebration began to taper off, Harry started to hear comments echoing through the hall. 

"Two?" 

"Two?" 

" _Snape?_ " 

On and on the murmuring went, until Albus held up a hand to silence it. "Professor Snape and Mr Potter will explain, and take questions, if you'll be so good as to allow them. Professor Snape?" 

They'd arranged all this in advance. "I defer to Mr Potter," said Severus, his voice so smooth that Harry felt better. Well, as much as he could, considering. 

Harry stood up and rested his hands on the table. "As some of you know, the press hasn't always been helpful in my efforts to mobilise against Voldemort's return. I'm willing to explain how we killed him, finally, but first, I have a request. No Quick-Quotes Quills." 

Another murmur went through the hall. Harry heard an "Oh, really!" that sounded a bit like Skeeter's voice. 

Harry lifted his wand. He hadn't really wanted to do things this way, but Severus had insisted that a spell was worth a thousand words, _and_ that he was well enough now, to tolerate Harry using a very mild version of their crossed powers. 

"I'm afraid I must insist you honour my request. I've been burned by lies from Quick-Quotes Quills far too many times, already. _Accio_ Quick-Quotes Quills!" 

Several dozen came flying at him. Harry ducked to one side and let them sail past him and hit the wall behind. Ink spattered everywhere. 

"The nerve--" Harry couldn’t be sure if that was Skeeter again, mostly because Molly Weasley's shouting drowned it out as she stepped forward, hands on hips. 

"I say well done, Harry, I do! He's been treated shamefully, _shamefully,_ by the lot of you over the years, and there are a good many of us here who won't see him maligned again!" 

By then end there, her voice had gone as shrill as any Howler, but to Harry, it was a beautiful sound. 

"Hear, hear!" called out Charlie, quickly echoed by Ron and then, it seemed like, everybody else in the hall. Harry grinned, feeling buoyed by that. Hmm, when he glanced at Charlie this time, he noticed that he was standing rather close to a brown-haired wizard Harry didn't know. 

"Now, yeh let the boy speak!" boomed Hagrid. 

The hall went silent. 

Harry swallowed. This was it, then. This was it, and he was supposed to be able to think on his feet, but his tongue felt dry in his mouth. Dry, and _huge_. He didn't think he'd ever be able to speak again. 

"What was that about Professor Snape helping you defeat You-Know-Who?" 

Harry didn't know who had asked, but he was grateful for the question, since it loosened his tongue. "Voldemort," he said. "Or better yet, Tom Riddle. Let's not be afraid of his name, any longer. Let's not give him that. And as for Severus . . ." Harry glanced down, settling his hand on Severus' shoulder. "He helped me more than anyone can ever know. He--" 

"Rumour going 'round that it was _his_ wand did the deed!" shouted someone else. 

"Manners of leeches," whispered Severus scathingly. 

"It was his wand and his magic both," said Harry loudly, "but don't interrupt me again, please." 

As if that request would do much good. 

"His magic?" 

" _His_ magic?" 

"What would Harry Potter need with someone else's magic?" 

"I did need it, and it's a good thing for all of us that I had it. Severus and I managed to cross our powers together, which made them . . . well, they did a lot more than double. That's how I could summon so many quills at once. Used that same spell, too, to summon the Death Eaters' wands during the battle, though it didn't work on Voldemort's since his was a Horcrux. Well, one of his Horcruxes." 

He'd told them too much at once, it seemed. They didn't know what to do with all of that. Questions erupted everywhere. 

This time, it was Harry who held up a hand. "One at a time. And don't yell, all right?" 

"How did you cross your powers?" 

Harry took a deep breath. " _Cambiare Podentes._ " 

As an announcement, that fell flat. 

"Is that Latin?" 

"Bad Latin, maybe." 

"What does it mean?" 

"Power exchange," said Harry. He wished they'd ask Severus some things, too. It seemed like they were crediting only _him_ with what they'd both accomplished. Of course, maybe that was because Severus wasn't strong enough to be standing up. The way things were set up, it did look like Harry was in charge of this deal. He abruptly sat down. "Yeah, power exchange, more or less. And Severus was a big part of it. _Just_ as big a part as I am." 

Remarkably enough, the reporters seemed to take the hint. "Can you cast with Mr Potter's powers too, then, Professor Snape?" 

Severus cleared his throat, his voice a little less than his usual commanding one as he answered. "No." 

That seemed to confuse people. The front row, at least, who the moment before had been looking like they'd just started to understand things. 

Finally one question broke free from the mass of noise. "Then what did you get, Professor Snape, in this exchange?" 

Severus glanced at Harry, as if to ask, _ready?_

Harry was, and he wasn't. But that wasn't Severus' burden to bear. "Me," he answered for himself, calling the word out loudly and with confidence. "He got me. I'm pledged to him in an irrevocable binding." And then, the truly hard part. "As his slave." 

All the noise and confusion from before dropped away as though it had never been. For one long moment, silence reigned in the hall. Absolute, sterling silence, such as Harry had never heard before at Hogwarts. 

And then, the hall exploded in the kind of noise that made fireworks seem quiet, in comparison. 

" _Silence!_ " roared Dumbledore, who until then had stood quietly to the side. 

The hall fell silent once again, though murmurings persisted. In the distance, Harry saw Molly's hand fly up to cover her mouth. Then Arthur was bending down to whisper in her ear, and she started to look angry. Really angry, but it seemed to be directed at her husband, not at Severus. 

All at once, Harry felt as worn as a chewed quill. He gestured for Severus to take over, and slumped a little in his chair. Suddenly flying sounded good. Anything to get away from this. 

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Severus at once, his hand reaching over to cover one of Harry's, and squeeze. That surprised Harry. A lot. He knew that Severus was a private person. "If you would distribute the copies?" 

Albus waved his wand, and all over the hall, bits of parchment appeared from the thin air and began to rain down on the crowd. Copies of an original Harry had never even really seen, since he'd been under the influence of the potion at the time. But he'd seen a copy earlier, when Albus had suggested this course of action, so he knew what it said. 

_17 June 1998. Notice of Invocation. Cambiare Podentes._

Harry James Potter of his own free will hereby forfeits his rights and citizenship in the wizarding and Muggle worlds, becoming instead chattel, a bound slave to be henceforth known as Harry James Potter. 

"The original is on file at the Ministry, should anyone wish to examine it," added Albus. 

Harry supposed that to mean that it wasn't misfiled, any longer. 

"What's this all about?" shouted a squat lady in the second row. "The Chosen One a slave, is he?" 

"Yes, he is," said Severus calmly. 

"How do we know he's yours? This doesn't say that!" 

Harry answered that for himself. "You know because I'm telling you so. And if that's not good enough, you can consult the witnesses to the invocation. Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley." 

_Oops._ Maybe that last bit hadn't been a stroke of brilliance. Molly looked like she might explode. But there was Ron, rushing over to her and talking to her earnestly, he and Arthur both. 

Of course, Bill and Charlie were looking thoroughly appalled. Paradoxically, that cheered Harry, since it meant that the twins had finally learned to shut their mouths. 

It wasn't so wonderful, however, to see that most other people in the audience were looking horrified. McGonagall had the saddest look on her face that Harry'd ever seen there, and Trelawney, who clearly didn't remember a thing about her own prophecy, was waving her arms wildly in the air like she was about to come out with one of her usual proclamations of doom. 

She must have decided against it; her arms suddenly fell back down to her sides. 

Harry turned his attention back to Severus fielding questions. 

"Why _yours?_ " a man was demanding in a high-pitched, shrill voice. Kind of a womanish voice, Harry thought."Aren't you-- weren't you, one of You-Know-Who's most loyal followers?" 

Severus answered in a level tone. "I was a Death Eater once, yes. And then I turned spy. As for _why me_ , there was a prophecy involved." 

"He was given about as much choice as I was," added Harry. "Which means, none. We received a prophecy telling us it was going to be the only way to kill Voldemort, and that if I didn't agree, he'd kill me for sure and set up a ten-thousand year long reign." 

"Prophecy?" someone snapped. "What prophecy? Who gave this prophecy?" 

Harry decided he'd rather not have the reporter getting sidetracked at this point, running over to Trelawney and smothering her with questions. He didn't think she could handle that, either, though at some point she'd probably have to. A lot of last year's seventh-years were aware that it was Trelawney who had given the prophecy to Neville, after all. 

Neville, who was standing at the back of the hall with an old woman who had to be his Gran, who was nodding slightly as he listened to Harry. 

Well, at least it looked like Neville could probably handle the reporters all right, when the time came for it. 

"A prophecy's a private thing, you know that," Harry said to the reporter who had asked. "It's not my business to be answering questions about who gave it." 

"It was given to you--" 

"No, it wasn't, and for now, we're going to leave it at that," Harry said firmly. "The important point is that it told us what we had to do, and we did it." 

Rita Skeeter had shoved her way to the front row by then, her smile sickeningly-sweet as she posed her poisoned question. Harry couldn't help but notice that even her regular quill wrote in acid green. "And you were a student here at this school when these things were learnt, weren't you? And he, a teacher. Are we to understand that Albus Dumbledore forced you both to participate in this . . . this . . . this barbaric ritual?" 

"It's not barbaric, really," said Harry. They were going to find out anyway, he thought. If information about _Cambiare Podentes_ had been there for Severus to dig up, it would be there when the reporters went looking. So, he said it. Might as well. At least this way, _he_ could control the way people found out. Well, sort of. "It's a spell for lovers." 

Fans began appearing everywhere, the pop of magic dancing in the air, people waving them frantically about as though it was just too hot to bear, in the hall. Which was ridiculous. It was December. 

"Oh, the two of you were lovers already, were you?" asked Rita, almost kindly, though her eyes still glittered, hard as diamonds. 

"No, we weren't. But we are, now. We had to be, or our powers wouldn't cross and it would have meant death to Muggleborns, and half-bloods, and blood-traitors, and knowing Voldemort, anybody who sneezed wrong!" Harry swept his gaze across the audience. "Anybody in here think we should have just left him to it?" 

Beside him, Severus gave a tiny shake of his head. 

Remembering their conversation earlier, Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Or at least look like he was. 

Skeeter wouldn't let go, saying in her smarmy voice, "You never answered as to whether the headmaster of this school forced you into this--" 

"Yes, I did," said Harry sharply. "But I won't repeat myself, because I have better things to do than sit here answering bloody silly questions. And that reminds me. I'll tell you about the battle because I really would like people to believe that the war is over now, but my personal life is something else, and I'll expect you all to respect that." 

They were surprisingly respectful, after that, though Harry had no doubt that some of the stories coming out of this would be much less so. He told them about the final battle and described in detail how Voldemort had died, and then told them what little he knew about Horcruxes. He said they should ask the Auror office for more information on that. The only thing he didn't explain was that using his crossed powers weakened Severus. It didn't seem a very good idea to admit that. 

Besides, Harry knew that Severus wouldn’t like to be thought weak, no matter for how good a cause. 

"That really is enough, now," said Albus finally. Harry was grateful for that. He hadn't quite known how to end this, and he was quickly finding out that reporters could ask questions for literally forever. 

Leeches, he thought, was probably right. Couldn't they see that Severus was tired? Almost wilting with it? 

Well, probably not. They'd hardly spared a glance for him, after those few questions earlier. Despite everything Harry had said, they still did seem to think they had him alone to thank for their . . . _salvation_ , as one reporter kept putting it. 

"Normally, classes would resume next Monday," continued Albus, "but in light of recent events, Hogwarts will be taking an additional week of holiday to celebrate a new birth of freedom for the wizarding world." 

Harry firmed his jaw and didn't let any reaction show. He couldn't really resent the statement, or the cheer that followed it. This _was_ a new birth of freedom for everybody else, after all. They were right to be happy. 

And really . . . he was happy too, because even if he wasn't completely free, he was at least finally free from worrying about when Voldemort would kill next. About who would die. 

Now, maybe, he could finally live, himself. Even if it was as a slave. 

Severus' hand squeezed his again, and Harry squeezed back, appreciating the sentiment. 

All at once, elves began appearing in the midst of the crowd, bearing trays of flutes already filled with sparkling champagne. They bustled about, distributing the drinks. Two more flutes appeared on the table, for Harry and Severus. 

When everyone had been served, Albus lifted his glass high. "To Harry and Severus, Severus and Harry!" he called out. "To bravery, honour, valour, and sacrifice!" 

"To Harry and Severus," the crowd largely echoed. 

"Now, if you'll excuse us," said Severus, pushing himself to stand. 

"One question, one question!" 

"One more only," said Harry, feeling generous because the reporter who was asking was carrying a bag labelled _The Quibbler_. 

"You've defeated Voldemort; what are you going to do, now?" 

_I'm going to Disneyworld,_ Harry thought, a little giddy. But years of caution had taught him to answer differently. "I'm going home. With Severus." 

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


"A new birth of freedom" is from the Gettysburg Address, written by Abraham Lincoln 

"I'm going to Disneyworld" is from a series of television commercials. 

  
  
  
  



	54. Chapter 54

 

 

**Monday, April 5, 1999 ---- 10:30 a.m.**

David Bryerson hopped up onto his desk, legs dangling, as the last of the students filed out. "So, Potter. You've been rather quiet this morning. A bit tired after the Easter holiday, eh? Or at least, I always find travelling exhausting. Was Disneyworld everything you expected?" 

It had been, actually. Harry had wanted to go much earlier, of course. He'd thought Disneyworld would fill that extra week of holiday Dumbledore had given everyone, but as it had turned out, Severus had still been too weak to endure magical travel back then. But by the time Easter rolled around, there was no more reason to delay the trip. 

And _Severus_ had been the one to remind Harry of it. 

Harry grinned, hopping up onto a desk, too, the same as Bryerson. In some ways, he was getting on better than ever with the Defence professor. A lot of that had to do with the man treating him as an equal, ever since the final battle several months earlier. A lot more of it, though, was probably because Harry had finally got over feeling uncomfortable around the man. So what if he'd once had a ridiculous infatuation? He'd never done anything about it. Had never even wanted to, except in passing, as a way of getting back at Severus. Which showed, didn't it, that Severus was the one Harry had really wanted, all along. 

Anyway, Bryerson didn't know about Harry's brief crush, and neither did Severus. Only Harry knew, and he was going to keep it that way. 

It was a huge relief to Harry that now, he could talk with Bryerson and not feel at all like he was making a fool of himself. "Oh, I loved Disneyworld. But exhausted, yeah. That place is absolutely massive. Made me wish we had a pair of brooms to get around on." 

Bryerson's smile grew a little warmer. "And what did Professor Snape have to say?" 

"I don't think it was his favourite thing, but he was a really good sport." 

Harry made a face about some of the things Severus had said while waiting in lines for rides, but really, he felt quite pleased that he could so easily talk about Severus. To Bryerson, or anyone else, because the wizarding world really _didn't_ think badly of a wizard for preferring his own sex. Everything he'd feared, everything he'd . . . well, _angsted_ over, had ended up turning out all right. Or better than all right, really. He'd never even been accused of being the new Dark Lord, or any such rubbish, because the only competent witnesses to the final battle were Harry and Albus, and they'd played down the real extent of Harry's twice-filled powers. 

The Death Eaters who had been defeated at that battle had turned out not to be the most reliable of informants. Harry had a feeling that the Ministry was a bit annoyed by that, but they couldn't change it. The Death Eaters hadn't seen everything in detail, since they'd been busy fighting Albus, and when they'd seen the final _Avada_ they'd been magically bound tight, which made their perceptions "suspect," as Kingsley had explained. 

Harry had been worried at first that the Ministry would insist on using Veritaserum. They didn't have the nerve to demand that of Albus, of course, and when it came to Harry . . . well, it was funny how things worked out, wasn't it? _Cambiare Podentes_ had come to his rescue, on that one. Harry wasn't a person; he was property. That was known now, and acknowledged. 

Severus had refused permission for the Ministry to use truth serum on his property. And since Severus' word was law when it came to Harry, that was that. 

And so really, all anybody knew about the final battle was that crossed powers had been enough to summon wands, and put up a really good shield, and then kill Voldemort and his Horcruxes. Nobody but Severus, Albus, and Harry knew that those powers, when fully exercised, made Harry . . . well, not exactly godlike. But pretty bloody powerful. 

There never had been a wave of hysteria, or anything close. Harry was respected, and held in more awe than he liked, but he wasn't really feared. Why should he be? When the reporters went digging, all they could find in history were references to _Cambiare Podentes_ giving a wizard enough power to really defend himself well. Nobody had made the connection, as Severus had, to the fact that _those_ individuals had been weak wizards to begin with. Not so Harry Potter, but if the reporters weren't clever enough to figure that out on their own, Harry certainly wasn't going to help them. 

"So which ride did Professor Snape like best?" asked Bryerson, a little mischievously. No wonder; Harry was positive the man wouldn't ever have the nerve to ask Severus that, himself. Harry would have asked, of course, if the answer hadn't already been so glaringly obvious. Who would have thought that Severus Snape, of all people, would want to go on a pirate ride, over and over? 

Harry laughed nearly every time he thought about it, but he wasn't about to have anybody else laughing at Severus. _He_ could, but that was it. 

"You know, I think he was happiest of all tramping through swamps to collect potions ingredients," Harry said, lifting his shoulders. "But that's all right, I guess." 

"Good, good." Bryerson waved toward the door, where students were beginning to file in. "Why don't you have the period off, Potter? They're merely taking a test. I'm sure I can manage that without you." 

The comment might have sounded casual to anyone else, but Harry had heard a few more like that from Bryerson in the past few months. Nothing snide . . . nothing he could even take offence at, really, but it was always there, kind of in the background, or maybe hovering over them. 

Bryerson obviously felt a bit awkward having Harry assist these days, and no wonder. The man had been nervous to begin with, first teaching post and all, but when the new term had begun after the extended holiday Dumbledore had given everyone, he'd been faced with the prospect of Harry Potter, Destroyer of Voldemort, working as his _assistant_. 

Bryerson clearly didn't know what to do about it. That first day back at work, he'd greeted Harry with a sincere but weakly offered, "Good show, Potter. Very good show, indeed," but after that, he barely spoke to Harry for a week, and then, it was only to say that he'd have to update that modern history he'd been teaching from, wouldn’t he? 

Thinking that a hint of some sort, Harry had offered to do it, only to have Bryerson shake his head. "Oh, no, no. I'll take care of it, Potter. You've done enough . . ." 

And ever since then, Bryerson had been offering Harry quite a lot of time off. Harry found it a bit annoying, in a way. He didn't want to be treated differently, after all. He just wanted a normal life. Or as normal as could be, in the circumstances. 

On the other hand, ever since the final battle, Bryerson hadn't once asked Harry to mark essays. That was a big relief. Harry still didn’t know how Severus could stand reading all the muck the students wrote. He didn't care if he _never_ saw another student essay again. 

Well, if Bryerson found Harry intimidating, at least he wasn't actually afraid or anything. He just didn’t like to be teaching alongside an assistant who might be--oh hell, _was_ \--his superior, magically speaking. And Harry found he could actually understand that. 

So now, as the next class began to take their seats, Harry said that he'd appreciate a bit of free time. Just before he left, though, it occurred to him that he really should ask. "And your fiancée? Eloise, was it? You spent the Easter holiday with her, I suppose?" 

"Right here in Scotland at her parents' house." 

"Did you do anything interesting?" 

Bryerson smiled as he hopped off the desk and scooped up his lesson plan. "You might say that. We planned the wedding. We'd love to have you come, of course. You and Professor Snape." 

_Severus,_ Harry almost said, but shrugged it off. And then, because attending a wedding wasn't very life-altering, as decisions went, he went ahead and answered. "I'm sure we'd love to be there." 

Actually, Severus might not love it so much, but Harry would find a way to convince him to go. 

As he let himself out of the classroom, a few of the students gave him a friendly wave. Harry waved back, grinning. Part of him could still hardly believe how things had turned out. The students _knew_ he was a slave, but they never said anything about it. Of course, maybe they didn't have the nerve. But even the other teachers didn’t refer to it any longer. Minerva had expressed some concern, in that slightly prickly way of hers, but had dropped it when Harry had insisted that he was very happy and that it was a bit late for regrets, in any case. And Hagrid had hugged him until he couldn't breathe. Probably because he'd been there when Harry had found out about the brothel. Hagrid knew now, why Harry had been so upset that day. 

But he wasn't upset any longer, and maybe that was why people seemed to be pretty accepting of the things he'd explained at the press conference. It probably also helped that he didn't act at all like a slave. He did his job, and took points from Slytherin when he needed to, even if Severus occasionally scowled about it. He went to professional Quidditch matches with Ron, and even tagged along on a couple of pub crawls, and then at other times he went abroad with Severus, just as he pleased. 

Of course, the press hadn't been nearly as respectful or restrained as his friends, colleagues, and students. The stories had begun right away, and had continued in a more-or-less constant stream ever since. Instead of regarding Harry with suspicion, however, the tone of the articles mostly focused on the _prurient_ , as Severus called it with disgust. Harry had been dismayed at first. And then he'd been resigned. By now, though, he was starting to get a little bit amused. 

After all, if his name had to show up in the papers almost every day, he'd rather they be writing light-hearted pieces than calling him mental or a liar. There was more speculation about his actual sex life than he'd like, though. He really didn't appreciate the round of stories that had tried to dig up information about whether Severus had been his first lover. Cho Chang had had the nerve to let herself be quoted as saying that she'd "always known Harry Potter was gay," which wasn't true at all. Well, that she'd known it wasn't true, anyway. 

That article had prompted Severus to suggest an array of "potion-based solutions to her wayward tongue," but Harry had managed to laugh it off. 

It was somewhat harder to laugh off the other sorts of articles that appeared. The Death Eater angle seemed to be a real favourite with the press. In those, Harry was generally credited with "saving" Severus from a life of evil, which was about the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. It was all there, in the record, for anyone to see. Severus had turned spy and started working for Dumbledore long before the latest prophecy had come along; he hadn't needed Harry to convince him to switch sides. 

Most of the stories, though, looked almost designed to sell flowers and candy, or something. Reporters couldn’t seem to get enough of gushing about how well they looked together, the both of them so tall and dark and powerful. Well, that was the first time Harry had ever seen himself called tall; he rather liked that bit. And then there were the headlines exploring all the peculiarities of his relationship with Severus. Chosen One and Death Eater. The age gap. The fact that Severus had been his teacher . . . and not too kindly disposed toward him, at that. Nobody seemed willing to admit that Severus had genuinely used to dislike him, so they played that one up as though it showed all along that Severus had to pretend loyalty to "He-Who-Etc." No matter that it contradicted their stories about Harry saving Severus from a life of evil. 

And then there was _Witch Weekly's_ banner headline: _Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor Off the Market._

_Reporters,_ thought Harry as he let himself into the upstairs rooms and made his way into the dungeons. _Gits, most of them._

Well, at least they hadn't yet dredged up the truth about the awful hex James Potter had placed on Severus. Though they had, of course, reported that the two had been "classmates who never got on." Which was putting it mildly. 

Harry grabbed a few Quidditch magazines from the front room, and went to the table to order a spot of tea. It came almost at once, but he let it brew a little longer as he flipped through an article comparing the latest models of Cleansweep and Firebolt. 

He couldn't help but sigh as he turned the page, though. You wouldn't think an advert for _anything_ would need to feature a full-page photo of Harry, but there it was, and he was smiling and nodding as though he agreed completely with what the words said: _Harry Potter, Destroyer of Voldemort, recommends the EverClear Transparent Cauldron. Happy brewing, Harry!_

As if he _ever_ did any brewing. 

Oh, well. It had been worth it, to get Severus a present he would really, really enjoy. 

Come to think of it, though, Harry's idea about learning to like bottoming had ended up working out, too. He'd just delivered that present a day late, that was all. Harry grinned and shoved the magazine away so he could pour his tea. If anything, sex had been even more brilliant than usual, ever since the New Year had begun. Having sex _just_ because he wanted it, without one single stray thought devoted to _needing_ to have it . . . well, that made more difference that he would have believed. 

And Severus, of course, was as skilled and considerate a lover as Harry could ever, ever have imagined. True to his word, he let Harry top. A lot. More than his fair share, maybe, but Harry made it up in _really_ good blowjobs. 

Things were good, all around, and not even the number one song on the Wizarding Wireless could dim Harry's general happiness. Actually, Celestina Warbeck's, _I'll Cross My Powers if You Cross Your Heart_ wasn't bad, as croony romantic tunes went. 

Harry finished with the Quidditch magazines as he sipped his tea, then reluctantly summoned the week's worth of newspapers that had piled up during their holiday in the States. Not just the _Prophet,_ either. These days, he took most major papers, because as ridiculous as the coverage was, he felt like he really did need to track it. Just in case they started speculating more about his powers. He'd rather know in advance if people were starting to panic at this late date. 

Still, it had been wonderful to get a break from seeing his own press. A holiday from all the feverish reporting and constant attention . . . that had been just what he'd needed. What both of them had needed, after that Order of Merlin ceremony Scrimgeour had scheduled a few weeks ago. 

The ceremony itself had gone reasonably well, considering it was a Ministry function and Harry had had to make small talk with the Minister and have his photograph taken with the man. _He_ kept trying to make out as though the victory had been his. His brilliant plan, his idea, from start to finish. 

Well, Harry had demolished that idea during his acceptance speech. He'd given full credit to Severus, _again_ , and he'd also talked in more detail about the battle plan having been Albus' brilliant idea. 

He had to admit, it had felt good, really good, to explain how Albus had used the _Prophet's_ habit of print-now-investigate-later against them. Ever since then, at least one paper had been slightly more restrained in its speculations. Harry had lost his temper, a bit, during his speech, and he'd later wondered if he'd just made everything worse, but it seemed not. 

The _Prophet's_ staff was acting like they'd had their hand slapped, publicly, and were treading more cautiously, afterwards. Though granted, their coverage of the Order of Merlin ceremony had been rather minimal. Harry didn't mind that. 

He was glad, however, that the _Quibbler_ had chosen such a good photograph to put on their cover. If there had to be one at all, that was. But there Harry had stood, in his new dress robes, Gryffindor colours, side by side with Severus, looking rather dashing in the new Slytherin dress robes Harry had bought at the same time. They'd even been holding hands, though Harry hadn't been aware of it at the time. And pinned to their chests, two gleaming Orders of Merlin, first class. 

For the next week, there had been nothing but stories about them, it had seemed. Except in the _Prophet,_ clearly sulking. 

Strange, though . . . when he looked through the dailies now, the ones that had been delivered during the holiday, there wasn't as much speculation as usual about himself and Severus. Huh. Maybe interest in them had finally died down. Maybe people had just needed a postscript or something, a fitting end to the whole Voldemort story, and the Order of Merlin had provided one. 

Not that Harry was out of the papers completely. There was one reference in the past week, just one, a small column about how he and Severus had gone on holiday to "destination unknown." The titbit was accompanied by a poll asking readers to guess the "romantic getaway destination of choice." 

Disneyworld, he saw, hadn't made the list. 

There were some bloody good ideas on it, though, thought Harry as he studied it. And time away had been so much fun, maybe he'd suggest to Severus that they go somewhere every weekend. Or almost every weekend; he supposed they really should be there at the one Quidditch match left in the season. Harry because he was supposed to award the cup, and Severus because Slytherin might actually win it. 

For his part, though, Harry was thinking that Hufflepuff would pull ahead in the final match, and end up claiming the yearly prize. 

The last match of the year was always a huge event, Harry knew. Maybe he'd invite Ron again. And Hermione, though the last time she'd barely paid any attention at all to the action on the pitch. Too busy talking Arithmancy with Severus. Obviously, Hermione was really enjoying the advanced studies she was undertaking. 

The noise of the front door closing had Harry glancing up as Severus strode into the reading room. 

"Any reason why you're having lunch alone?" 

"That time already?" Harry flicked a quick _Tempus._ "Oh. No, I only had tea. Skiving off work, you know." 

"Bryerson again, then," said Severus dryly. 

"Yeah. Oh, told him how much you liked the pirate ride, by the way." 

It was really interesting, how the mind bond never flagged a lie as long as Harry was teasing. Maybe the spell _did_ read intentions, in some respects. 

Severus' brows drew together. "You did not." 

"Ha, count yourself lucky I didn't mention how you kept humming that _pirate's-life-for-me_ song as you mucked about in the swamp." Then Harry relented. "Oh, all right. I didn't tell him anything, really." 

"Good." 

Harry tilted his head to one side as Severus sat down opposite him. "Why did you like the pirates so much, anyway? They were all right, but after the third time I thought it got a little boring." 

A tiny smile began to play about Severus' mouth. "Well . . . young men do have fantasy lives, you know. I always did find the pirate a rather dashing figure. Of course, that's a romanticised image, I've no doubt. Real pirates were rather nasty creatures." 

"With rotting teeth." Harry smiled brightly to show off his own healthy smile. "But, you know, that's interesting you put it like that. Did you . . . did you always know you were interested in men, then? Because . . . well, you know. It took me a while to get myself sorted." 

"I knew from quite a young age, yes. And I think we both know why you needed more time than I did." 

"Ha, more than most." 

"You know what you want now, which is all that really matters," said Severus firmly. 

Harry raised an eyebrow, seeing a neat opening there. "Hinting, are you? Well, that takes some nerve, now that I know you have this pirate fantasy you never mentioned before." Grinning, he scooted his chair around the table until he was close enough to brush Severus' robes aside and give him a bit of a rub. "What did I tell you, eh? Any more brilliant sex ideas and you're to mention them, not wait for me to figure them out." 

"What are you going on about?" 

Severus might be confused, but his cock had no such problems. It was stiffening as Harry palmed it through the layers of cloth. 

"If you wanted a pirate all this time, all you had to do was conjure me an eye patch, and maybe a parrot, and ask me to talk in a really bad accent--" 

Severus caught his hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed each of his fingers. Thoroughly. Until Harry was going weak in the knees. 

"I don't want a pirate. I only want you," Severus breathed, the words sounding . . . _wow, just wow._ Severus really did have a voice and a half. He could make the simplest statements sound like spells. Or vows. 

"I know." Harry couldn't stand the fingers thing for much longer, so he snatched his hand away and kissed Severus on the mouth. Long and deep, showing him how much he liked it. How much he liked _him_ , really. Liked having him, liked being his. When he was finished he lingered, mouths close together, and said the rest. "I'll play pirate for you, though, you know. Or cabin boy . . . or did you want to be the cabin boy?" 

Severus laughed, the sound rich with amusement. And happiness. And maybe even something else. Harry couldn't be sure, but sometimes he thought Severus might feel a little bit of love. Maybe some, at least. 

But he'd never said a word about it, so Harry wasn't sure. Just as well that Severus had never said so, anyway. What on earth would Harry say in reply? 

"You're delightful," Severus said now, brushing another kiss against his lips. "I do like a playful lover. Perhaps the papers have it wrong, and you aren't too young for me, after all." 

"Perhaps you're not too _old_ for me," Harry teased back. "Though after the holiday we just had, I wouldn’t be surprised if you needed significant time to recover." 

"Muggle Jacuzzis really are quite the thing," said Severus, his eyes darkening in a way Harry always found sensual. 

"Yeah, those bubbles hide _everything_." Standing up, Harry gave a tug on Severus' hand. "Come to bed? Or did you really come down here for lunch?" 

"Food, drink, and air can definitely wait," said Severus, in that lilting voice that meant he was very, very happy. 

Harry didn't need those crossed powers any longer--or at least he hoped he wouldn't, ever--but he still loved to know that he was pleasing Severus. 

But it wasn't done for strategic reasons, now. It was all just part of being lovers. 

  
  
  
  



	55. Chapter 55

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, May 15, 1999 ---- 1:00 p.m.**

"Congratulations," Harry said, shaking hands with the captain of the Hufflepuff team, as the lone reporter looking on snapped a photograph. Letting go of the student's hand, Harry passed him a golden cup embossed with the Hufflepuff crest. "A very well-played season." 

Myles Rendham cradled the cup, his finger tracing the badger emblem there, before turning to his house and lifting it high. Applause broke out, mostly from the Hufflepuffs, of course. But Harry was satisfied to see that a good number of students in other houses were also clapping. He'd come to think this year that Quidditch really ought to unite the houses in something fun, rather than divide them against one another. 

Smiling widely, the seventh-year set the cup back on the head table so that the headmaster could vanish it back into the display case for another year, and then returned his gaze to Harry's. "Thank you, Coach Potter. We wouldn’t have done nearly so well without all the time you spent helping us. To think, the Destroyer of Voldemort, _himself_ , teaching us every last thing he knows about Quidditch--" 

Harry appreciated the easy way the Rendham had said _Voldemort_. That was becoming more and more common, he'd noticed. It was as though people were finally beginning to believe that it really _was_ all over, and that the former "Dark Lord" would hold no more power, over anyone, ever again. 

Severus had yet to say the name, though he didn't say _the Dark Lord_ much, either. Mostly, he didn't refer to Voldemort, these days. And that was fine; in some ways, his memories were probably more painful than Harry's were. Still, Harry wished that Severus would share a little more about his past with him. Reasons for joining Voldemort, and then leaving him. What he'd done, what he'd had to do, during those years when he'd served so faithfully as Dumbledore's spy. 

Harry did want to know more than the vague sketch Severus had given, but he had no intention of asking. Answers would probably come, in time, and Harry could wait for Severus to give them. And if those answers never came, Harry could understand that, too. There were things he never wanted to talk about again, after all. 

He just hoped that if and when Severus decided to share that part of himself, he'd be able to say _Voldemort_ without the slightest hesitation. 

Realising that Rendham was still waiting for a reply, Harry dragged his thoughts back to the present. "All the teams had me coaching them, you know. I'm glad if I helped you improve, but I don't think that had anything to do with my having battled Voldemort." 

"Oh, yes, of course," said Rendham quickly, but another message was shining from his eyes. _We had the Destroyer of Voldemort coaching us! All year! All year long!_

Harry nearly sighed, but supposed he probably wouldn't be any different, if their positions were reversed. 

"Thank you, Rendham," he said again. 

The boy, clearly hearing the note of dismissal, smiled and backed away, almost like Harry was royalty. Thank Merlin he didn't stumble off the dais as he stepped down. 

"Hufflepuff winning the Quidditch Cup," murmured Severus, shaking his head a little. 

"Oh, quiet. I still have to change the decorations," said Harry out of the side of his mouth. One wave of his wand, and it was done. The Hufflepuff table erupted in a new chorus of cheers and yells, which was only to be expected. 

Severus scowled slightly, all the same. 

"Relax," laughed Harry, picking up his goblet of pumpkin juice as he took his seat, again. "It's only for a few weeks, and then they'll change again for the House Cup." 

"Is that what happens every year?" drawled Severus. "I never noticed." 

Harry laughed and settled in to eat his meal. A shame Ron and Hermione hadn't been able to attend the match like he'd wanted. He could probably have had them sit up at the head table. Hermione would have had a wonderful time chatting up her former teachers, and Ron would have thought the whole thing a great lark. 

But they'd owled him that they were going to be away this week and next, scouting out possible honeymoon destinations in Peru and Ecuador. Hermione had sounded chirpy about the whole thing; Ron, rather resigned. 

"Missing your friends?" asked Severus, his tone matter-of-fact. 

Odd how he could usually know when Harry had them in mind. 

"No, not so much," said Harry, pushing aside his empty plate. It vanished immediately, instead of at the end of the meal, but Harry was getting used to that. Even the elves seemed to have taken note of his new status as _Destroyer of Voldemort,_ though if he had to be called that, Harry would have preferred people to get it right. He was one of the destroyers, not the only one _._ Still, at least the elves treated Harry and Severus with roughly equal reverence, something that was only occasionally true among wizards. "We see Ron and Hermione plenty, after all." 

The lines around Severus' eyes wrinkled a little, and for a second, he looked almost indulgent. Then the expression vanished, to be replaced by something a good deal more calculating. "If they're going to invite us to dine with them so frequently, I absolutely insist we give them a house-elf as a wedding present. The items Ron presents as cuisine are almost always atrocious." 

"Well, it's not like he learned a lot of cooking spells growing up. Cleaning, sure, but his mum pretty much took charge in the kitchen--" 

"And no doubt expected that his future wife would do the same." 

Harry grinned at that one. "Yeah, probably, and Hermione doesn't have the time, what with her studies. But she'd eat parchment before she'd allow an elf to serve her. You know that." 

"Yes, I know that," said Severus in a tone that said he entirely disagreed with such nonsense. 

Harry and Severus got to talking then, about what they _could_ give Ron and Hermione. Not that there was any need to decide on that soon. Hermione had at least another year to go in her apprenticeship, and since Ron had been drifting from job to job for the past few months, deciding what he'd like to do, they weren't getting married anytime soon. 

Harry was so caught up in the conversation that he didn't hear the headmaster approaching until the man said his name. Then he glanced behind him. "Hallo, Albus." 

The man smiled at them serenely. "Hallo, Harry. Would you come up to my office when you've finished eating? There is something I'd like to ask you." 

Harry almost said _sure_ , but then he remembered. At least now, he could talk openly about the fact that there was a contract to consider. It didn't matter who heard. "Is it a life-altering decision?" 

"Oh, no, no. I can't imagine so. Though Severus is entirely welcome to join us, of course. I'd like to discuss your impression of the programme this year, and determine if we need to make any changes." 

Well, if the discussion was going to be about Quidditch, Severus would hardly be very interested. Unless Harry suggested changes that involved Slytherin getting more pitch time than any other house, of course. But Severus knew better than to hope for anything like that. 

"I'll be up in a few minutes then," he told Albus, because a really good-looking chocolate mousse had just appeared before him. Severus had one too, but he pushed it away. 

"The password is Pumpkin Pasties," said Albus in a jolly tone, before he touched his hand to his floppy hat and strolled off. 

"Sure you don't want to come discuss practise schedules or such?" teased Harry, licking a bit of whipped cream off his spoon. Hmm. Snape's eyes darkened considerably, which made Harry want to tease him in an entirely different way. He gave the spoon another lick. A longer one, while he closed his eyes and murmured, "Mmmm. _So_ good." 

He felt Severus' knee knock into his, under the table, as the other man muttered, "Behave yourself." 

Harry laughed and went back to eating normally, but he couldn't deny a little thrill of pleasure at the idea that he could _get_ to Severus so easily. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, May 15, 1999 ---- 1:23 p.m.**

"So then, the Defence program," said Albus briskly, just as soon as he'd finished the usual offers of tea and sweets. 

"Defence," said Harry blankly. "I thought you wanted to talk about Quidditch." 

"Oh, any time, certainly," said Albus. "That would be a great pleasure. But you have that well in hand, I think. Unless you yourself see a need for some changes?" 

"Uh, no . . ." Actually, Harry hadn't given any thought to that. He still wasn't really used to the idea that he was in charge of things. "But Defence . . . shouldn't you be talking to Professor Bryerson?" 

"Well, yes and no. His own views are important, but I would like yours, as well. Besides, he's away for the weekend." 

Oh. Harry really hadn't noticed, though thinking back, he couldn't recall seeing Bryerson at the match or the lunch that had followed. Missing the Quidditch Cup ceremony struck Harry as a little less than professional, really; he had an idea that all staff were supposed to attend. But then, he couldn't really blame the man for wanting to spend time with his fiancée. He didn't get to see her during the week, and if Harry had to go a week without seeing Severus, he'd find that a bit rough. 

And not because of the contract. 

"So, what did you want to know about Defence, then?" 

Albus studied him for a long moment. "What would be your view of Hogwarts' extending Professor Bryerson's contract by another year?" 

Harry almost gaped. 

"You did help me winnow the applications last year," said Albus, one finger tracing the rim of a purring teacup. "You can't be so surprised that I would ask your opinion of the teacher we did engage. Who else has worked so closely with him this year?" 

There was that, but still . . . "No offence, but is it really appropriate for his assistant to be evaluating him?" 

"Oh, you aren't doing that. He has formal evaluations on file, of course. But your opinion would be of much use to me." Dumbledore moved his hand away from his cup. "And so?" 

"He's a good teacher," Harry said honestly. Well, if he were completely honest, he'd admit to himself that part of him wanted to make a comment that would send Bryerson packing. How could Harry do that, though? The man was soon to have a wife and baby to support, and there was no real reason he ought to find himself sacked. In fact, it would be completely unfair. It wasn't Bryerson's fault that Harry had developed that little crush on him. 

And what did that crush matter, anyway? It seemed hard to believe now, almost like it had happened to someone else. Unreal, in fact. Harry wasn't ill-at-ease with Bryerson any longer, except over the way the man kind of deferred to him, at times. 

"He's the best we've had since Lupin," Harry went on, his decision made. "Bryerson cares about his students learning what they need to know, and he makes a special effort to think of ways to help the Muggleborns understand everything. I think you'd do well to keep him on." 

"Well, that matches my impression, I must say." Albus smiled, though the expression looked slightly odd. Like he had more to say, and wasn't sure if he should say it. And then, like he had decided to say something entirely different. "I must thank you, Harry, for the opportunity to have a Defence teacher come back for a second year." 

"You have to thank Severus too," said Harry, frowning. 

"And I have done so, of course." 

Harry hadn't complained too much about this to Severus, obviously, but now he found he couldn't hold in his annoyance. "Well, I know you understand what happened, and everybody else _should,_ after we explained, but I just can't believe how many times I hear it, you know, or see it in print, that _I_ killed Voldemort. Like I was the only one involved, when I did it with Severus' powers, and even his wand, for Merlin's sake." 

"And with your own powers as well, and your sacrifice. Don't discount that." 

Harry didn’t, but he still had to say, "It didn’t turn out to be a such a terrible sacrifice. Not like I thought it would be, at first. I mean, it _did_ , but it really didn't. I mean . . . bollocks. Oh, sorry. It's just, I don't think I can explain it." 

"No need, no need," said Albus, rising to his feet. "I understand, Harry, because I trust Severus, too." 

Harry knew he did, but he also knew that all that was beside the point. In order to see Voldemort vanquished, the headmaster would have wanted Harry to agree to _Cambiare Podentes_ even with the most untrustworthy wizard around. But then, what choice had he really had? What choice had any of them had? 

A little knot of resentment settled in his stomach, the sensation familiar, though it wasn't as intense as it had been before. That knot was smaller, and perhaps less tightly wound; Harry didn't think he would explode just thinking about it. 

But neither did he think that knot would ever go away. Not completely. 

Harry nodded brusquely as he stood, and forced his thoughts back to the subject at hand. "About Bryerson. I'll have to talk this over with Severus, I think, but I thought I'd let you know that I'd really prefer not to be his assistant next year. Not that he's not great, but . . ." Harry swallowed. "It's just a bit weird for him, I think. Having me assist when all the students are looking at me like _I_ should be teaching the class. Not that I think I should," he added, a little appalled when he realised how that could be taken for hinting. 

Albus stopped stroking his beard. "I see no reason why you shouldn't, if that is what you'd like to do. You would be a fine Defence teacher, the finest this school has ever seen." 

"I don’t want a job offered to me because I'm known as the 'Destroyer of Voldemort,'" said Harry flatly. 

"Your excellent work leading Dumbledore's Army was far more on my mind." 

Oh. Well, that made the whole suggestion a lot more acceptable, Harry supposed. The question was, did he want to teach the Defence courses? It would give him a more responsible position here at Hogwarts; it would make him Severus' equal, in a certain sense. 

People would say he'd got the job based on what he'd done in December, of course. Harry was finding, more and more, however, that he simply didn't care what strangers had to say about him. All the intense press coverage had, perhaps, cured him of that. Or maybe growing up had done it. Or seeing how Severus had managed not to hex a single reporter, yet. 

None of that meant, though, that he really wanted to teach Defence. "I don't think I'd care for that job," he said slowly. "Or at least, not right now. Maybe someday, if Bryerson doesn’t work out, or if he takes another post. For now, though . . . well, all I can say is thank you for thinking so highly of me." 

Dumbledore's smile grew poignant. "Oh, my boy. You can't possibly imagine how highly I think of you. Are you certain, then? I've not forgotten your interest in Defence, your burning determination to become an Auror." 

"Me neither, but that's burnt out of me," said Harry seriously. "I could be one if I wanted, you know. Severus would find a way to make it fit the spell. He's very clever, that way. Well, he's very clever, full stop. He'd even catch me up in potions, I bet, so I could re-sit my N.E.W.T. I never did fail it, you know. They wiped away my score." 

"But you don't want that," said Albus quietly, obviously seeing that it was the truth. 

"No. I thought I did, you know that. But maybe that was because I felt like I'd been . . . hunted, for so long. I never did have much chance to consider any career but Auror, if you think about it." 

"Yes, yes. Perhaps," said Albus, stroking his beard again. "And so then, for next year?" 

Harry smiled, shrugging. "You know I have to consult Severus. But I'd be very happy just coaching Quidditch for a while, while I figure out the rest. Would that be a problem, though? It's not exactly a full-time job. Oh, but you can let anyone you please live in the castle, so . . ." 

Dumbledore looked vaguely amused. "Yes, but a professor's bonded can certainly share quarters, Harry. No need to earn room and board at all. And most assuredly, no reason now why we must give the appearance of your having a reason apart from Severus to reside here." 

"No, I loved coaching," said Harry, something in him rebelling at the idea that he should stay home all day while Severus was earning a real living. That just didn't seem right, even if with the vault Severus had entrusted to Harry, neither one of them really had to worry about money. "And if I had more time to plan lessons and such, I could do even better with it." 

"Quidditch it is, then," said Dumbledore, adding before Harry could, "conditional upon Severus' approval, of course." 

Huh . . . strictly speaking, Harry knew he didn't even need Severus' approval. The contract had never said that. It had only said that he needed to consult Severus before he made any life-altering decisions. 

Harry felt something open up inside him, something warm, and maybe soft. Because even as far back as the invocation, Severus really hadn't wanted to control Harry. He'd wanted just what he'd promised: to give Harry as full a life as possible. And his claim to want just that, to _deliver_ it, even . . . it wasn't just made up of words. It was woven through his subconscious, too. Had to be, to show up in the contract, like that. 

"I'll talk to him and let you know," said Harry, that warm spot inside him growing a little as he realised that for all he might not technically need to do more than consult Severus, he wanted to. All part of being lovers, really. Part of sharing a life. 

And that's exactly what they were doing, Harry thought as he rode the winding staircase down. He'd told Severus once that he was pretty sure that being lovers meant more than sharing just a bed, which was sort of funny, when he thought about it. 

Because back then, he hadn't even known what he was talking about. He'd just been so horrified at the idea of becoming some sort of harem boy for Severus, that he'd been grasping at straws, hoping for anything that might help him feel a little bit less like a slave. 

And Severus . . . well, thinking back, Harry didn't think Severus had known what Harry had been talking about, either. What had he said in reply, when Harry claimed that being lovers was made of more than having sex? Severus had talked about Harry's place in his bed and had asked, almost snidely, if Harry had something else in mind. But then, ever since then, he'd gone out of his way--far out of his way, sometimes--to share a life instead of just a bed. He hadn't always been brilliant at it, true. But he'd been brilliant more often than not. 

Mostly, it seemed to him that they were figuring things out as they went along, which meant that their life together could only get better and better, particularly now that there was no need to worry about Voldemort, any longer. 

No need to worry about much at all, Harry thought. He didn't really know what Severus would think about his Quidditch idea, but he did know that one way or another, the two of them would work it out. 

  
  
  
  


**Saturday, June 12, 1999 ---- 9:45 a.m.**

"So strange to think that just a year ago, I was down there with them," said Harry, staring out the window in the upstairs rooms as students streamed down the path to Hogsmeade to catch the Express. "It seems like a lot longer than a year's gone by." 

He felt his hand clasped by Severus, tightly. "You're older by more than one additional year, in a great many ways." 

Harry kept his gaze trained out the window, though he raised it to look at the Quidditch pitch in the distance, and then the rolling green hills beyond. The lake he'd made wasn't visible from here, but he knew just where it was. He flew over it most days, practicing old manoeuvres and trying to develop new ones. Quidditch was looking to be his only job, for the next year at least, and Harry wanted to be ready. More than ready. He'd held his own this year, he thought, but so much about coaching had been new that he'd not done much more than that. Next year, he was determined, things were going to be different. 

He was going to run the finest Quidditch programme in Europe, and see what he could do to foster talent for the professional leagues. There were a few students with the potential to make it to that level, and Harry was going to see to it that they had every chance to get there. 

For a moment, he wondered if Severus ever had similar feelings for those students particularly gifted in potions, and found himself a little bit startled to realise that he had literally no idea. Apart from complaining about the content of essays, and the inevitable slew of potions accidents that happened every year, Severus didn't talk much about his own job. Maybe he thought Harry wouldn't want to know, since it would involve talking about brewing. 

"You know, you _can_ tell me what you're working on when you go down the hall to mince and chop and stir," he suddenly said. "It's not like I can't stand hearing about your potions work, Severus. You've never even really said much about how the transparent cauldron is coming along." 

"Oh, it provides 'happy brewing,' certainly." 

Harry grimaced in a good-natured way. "I wonder how much longer that stupid advert's going to run." 

"You didn't set a time limit in writing?" 

"Didn't think of it. I know, I know, not too cunning." Harry shrugged. "Could I have, though? Considering you had to sign my employment contract for next year, I kind of doubt it. What did you do last year, sign one and never even tell me?" 

"Last year Albus technically engaged you as an intern, which doesn't require a written contract." 

Harry glanced to the side. "Why not just do that again?" 

"I thought you'd rather be treated like a full adult," said Severus, a little stiffly. "I regret that it's not possible in every respect." 

"Yeah, I know you do. It's all right, Severus. I mean, it doesn't even matter. It's the job I want, this time. The job I chose." 

"Yes. You'll do quite well at it, I think." 

"You bet I will." Harry smiled, wondering how they'd got onto _him,_ again. "Back to your happy brewing, then. What are you working on, these days?" 

"You'd really like to know?" Severus' lips curled upwards, just slightly. "I'll show you, then." He led the way down to his lab. 

The transparent cauldron in use was really quite startling to see, Harry thought, bending down close to it. The splotchy potion in there was boiling at the bottom but not the top, which Harry had never imagined could happen, but that showed how little he knew about brewing. 

As the potion boiled, he could see swirls of colour inside the cauldron, slowly but steadily mixing. From the top, though, the process was much less obvious. Definitely, Harry could see that having a transparent cauldron would be make a massive difference to a real brewer. 

Or even to a student, really. He wondered how long it would be before they became standard issue. Hmm, though probably the first-years would still need to start with a cauldron they could properly see even when it was empty. 

"So what is it, anyway?" 

"At the moment, not much," admitted Severus, shrugging as he leaned against a counter, his watchful eyes trained on the cauldron-shaped mass of brew. "I haven't got it working quite right. But it's supposed to cure the thestrals of an annoying dental problem Hagrid keeps mentioning. It needs work." 

"You already know what you're going to try next?" 

"Oh, yes," said Severus, his voice more enthused than usual, though the effect was subtle enough that Harry thought most people wouldn't mark it. "I've worked my way through twelve species of the moonvine we collected, so now it's time to begin testing them in combinations." 

"That's a lot of different combinations." 

"Why are you suddenly so interested in talking about potions?" Severus asked, pushing off from the counter. His eyebrows drew together as he studied Harry. "I've avoided that with you. For good reason." 

"Yeah, I know you have." Harry glanced around, thinking about the time he'd been in this room, Severus trying to help him cram for his N.E.W.T.s. What a complete disaster. 

On the other hand, it all seemed like an age ago, too. And unimportant. Harry didn't think he'd ever love potions the way Severus did, but what did that matter? Severus loved them. He shouldn't feel like he had to cut that part of himself off, just because Harry was about. 

"Brewing's a part of your life," he said, trying to explain. "We talk Quidditch, don’t we? I know it's not your favourite thing, but you listen to me go on about it. I just think . . . you can go ahead and be yourself around me, Severus. All of yourself." 

Severus, Harry thought, looked slightly staggered by that, for some reason. Did he really think Harry so very immature? 

Looking back, Harry realised that the other man had a lot of reason to, actually. How many times had Harry said _I hate you,_ when he didn't, really? He'd just hated what was happening; he'd hated Severus' role in it. He'd been angry. 

Severus had been angry at Harry too, that last time, but he'd said _that_ , instead of claiming to hate him. He'd been the more mature one, definitely. Of course, Severus had also lost his temper and cast _Compulsio,_ but it was pretty hard to resent that. Harry _had_ been out of control, that day. He'd needed help. Maybe not that kind, but Severus had done the best he could. 

And that was all anyone could do. Their very best. 

Had Harry been doing his best, though, with Severus? Making the man think he'd better not so much as mention brewing? Well, Harry couldn't remedy the past, but he could do better in future. Starting right now, too. Spotting a relatively clear stretch of counter, Harry hopped up onto it and settled in. "So, thestral medicine. That sounds challenging. I'll keep you company while you work on it. And yes, I'll be quiet when you need to concentrate. Just say _shhh_ or something." 

Severus stood there as if bemused. Like he didn't know what to think, let alone say. 

Harry smiled to prod him. "Severus? Your potion?" 

Severus finally glanced over at it. "It won't need attention until the colour has completely stabilised, but then I should begin adding the mashed lynx tongue." 

"So, mash some." Harry didn't offer to do it himself. He knew what that might lead to, as he'd almost certainly either purée it or leave it too chunky for Severus' liking. Besides, he thought, laughing inside, lynx tongue really stank if you got too close. But Harry was perfectly happy to sit and watch as Severus did the prep work. It was kind of good, actually, to know that they could get along all right, even in a potions lab. 

Severus took a bit of something red and slimy from a stay-fresh box, and bent over to open one of his lower cabinets to fetch out a mortar. When his robes stretched taut over his arse, Harry almost whistled. But then he caught sight of what else was stowed in that particular cabinet. 

Gleaming red cans. Twenty-three in all, Harry knew, and probably still as chilled as the day Harry had first found them. Severus might not have twice-filled powers, but his spell-casting was not to be doubted. 

For a moment, Harry just sat and stared past Severus at the few cans he could see, and then it was like something inside him yawned, stretched, and finally, woke up. Something that had been sleeping, for a long, long time. 

He felt unbearably thirsty, in that special way that only a Coke could really satisfy. "Um . . . mind if I have one of those, then?" Without waiting for a reply, Harry summoned one and levered the metal tab on top until the can popped open. A satisfying fizzing sound filled his ears, and before it had a chance to die down, Harry took a long, cold drink. Then he wiped his mouth with his hand, and grinned. 

"These really are brilliant. Did I ever say thanks, Severus?" 

Severus had stood up, startled when the can had flown past him. A mortar and pestle was in his hand. "You did," he drawled, looking at Harry, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, just a bit. 

"Oh." The way Harry remembered it, he hadn't been very appreciative. But no matter. "You know what I'd like to try? Rum and Coke. Now _that's_ supposed to be brilliant." He lifted his wand to do another _Accio_ , but Snape's deep voice stopped him. 

"No alcohol consumption in the lab. If you want that sort of drink, you'll have to--" 

"No," said Harry, lowering his wand. "That can wait. I want to stay with you." 

  
  
  
  



	56. Chapter 56

 

 

  
  
  
  


**Tuesday, June 15, 1999 ---- 2:20 p.m.**

Over the next few days, Harry spent quite a bit of time with Severus, watching him brew. The transparent cauldron really was quite interesting, but that wasn't the real attraction, of course. Harry just wanted to be around Severus. It was nice to just sit perched on a counter, talking to him and drinking a Coke. Harry didn't even mind the times when Severus needed to count stirs or layer spells, or otherwise concentrate on the potion instead of the conversation. He just said _shhh,_ and Harry would watch him move about the lab, tending to his brews. Gave him time to admire the man's long legs and when he caught a lucky glimpse through those voluminous robes, his arse. 

Now, soaring away from the castle and toward what he'd started to regard as his own private lake, it occurred to Harry that he was spending a lot more time with Severus than he had to. Huh, and wasn't that a thought. 

Because in a certain sense, he _did_ have to stay with Severus. Not in the lab for hours at a stretch, true, but in a more general sense. What he wanted, or didn't want, was pretty much beside the point, since he had no real choice about his life. 

He'd thought once that he would have one. That moment in the hospital wing, that one instant when it had seemed like his own heart had stopped beating, just the same as Severus' had a few moments before. That one, perfect moment when a single word had wrapped itself around him like a warming charm. 

_Free._

For just a minute or so, he'd actually believed it had happened. So what if it was supposed to be impossible? His entire life had been made up of the impossible, hadn't it? _Nobody can survive the Killing Curse_ . . . not true at all, when you came right down to it. He was living proof that the impossible could come true. 

And so this now, too. One more impossible thing had happened. He was free. He'd been set completely free . . . 

The shock of that had been so great that he'd hardly been able to think about what it would all mean, but one thing had been crystal clear. 

He'd be able to choose for himself, now. What he wanted. _Who_ he wanted. 

And then, before he'd even had a chance to even begin to decide what those answers might be, the questions themselves had come crashing down in ruins, when Severus kept him from doing something as simple as lighting a candle. Stoppering up his magic with almost no effort at all. With just a single thought. Shattering the fantasy. Shattering him. 

He wasn't free, after all. Severus hadn't really died; he had just come awfully close. 

And Harry, of course, was still a slave. 

Terrible, that in that first moment of soul-splitting pain, of loss like he'd never felt before, Harry's first thought had been: _but if Severus had died for keeps, I would be free, now._

He hadn't let that show. Not on his face, and not in his voice. It had been an awful thought, after all. Almost evil. Harry had never wanted anyone to die for him before, and the idea that Voldemort could take that from him, too, that Voldemort could reach out from beyond the grave to ruin not just _what_ Harry was, but _who_ he was . . . that was almost too much to bear. 

Harry had shut it out, had told himself that it hadn't happened, that he couldn't be the kind of person who would think a thing like that. But he had been, he knew. 

Maybe it was only natural to feel that way, to wonder over the other possibilities. It wasn't as though he actually did want Severus dead. Far from it. 

No, he wanted Severus alive. He couldn't even imagine the other, not really. 

But the real question wasn't whether he had wanted Severus to live; it was about what Harry had wanted for himself, during that brief moment when he thought he'd been set free. 

He'd never really answered that, had he? First, he hadn't had any time to decide, and then, it had seemed like the answer couldn’t possibly matter. So he'd stopped thinking about it. 

But now, flying low and slow over the surface of the lake he'd forged, Harry wondered if that had been a mistake. What if he _had_ been set free, that day in the hospital wing? What would he have done with himself, afterwards? What would he have wanted? 

Would he have stayed on with Severus, of his own free will? 

Harry flew lower and lower, his trainers skimming the surface of the water as he tried to answer that. The answer might not matter, but it seemed important, all the same. Important, but hovering just out of reach, and for good reason. How should he know what he would have done? Was a question like that even answerable? 

_Perhaps not_ , thought Harry, swerving as he approached the edge of the lake, then continuing to cross it again from a different direction. How could he be certain of what he would have done nearly six months earlier? The real question, he supposed, was all about the here and now. 

Would he stay with Severus _today_ , if he had a choice? Suppose he were to be suddenly set free, by some magical means other than death? That would never happen, Harry knew, but what if it did? Would he say a quiet farewell to Severus and strike out on his own? Visit him on weekends, keep in touch? 

Or would he turn to him and say that he'd like to be bonded again? Not in slavery, this time, true. He'd never choose that. No, not in slavery, but in-- 

Harry's whole body jerked in realisation, and as it did, his broom abruptly careened out of his control, straight down into the waters of the lake, where he soared downwards like he was flying still, the broom dragging him down into the clear blue depths. 

For a moment, he was simply too shocked to react, but then he pulled up sharply, and the broom responded. More sluggishly than he would have liked, but it did react, and Harry made his way back up, flying through the water until he reached the surface. 

Gasping for air, he twisted onto his back, the Firebolt clutched in one hand as he lay there, floating, lips parted, eyes clenched shut against the bright sun overhead. He felt like an absolute imbecile. What on earth had happened? Something wrong with the Firebolt, maybe . . . well, it had been a little while since Harry had trimmed off any frayed bristles and made sure the rest were lying flat . . . 

Finally, when he didn't feel so much like he'd had the wind knocked out of him, Harry rolled over in the water and mounted the broom again. Kicking off was pretty difficult, but after a couple of false starts, he managed, and paying attention to nothing but his flying, this time, he made his way over to the edge of the lake. 

Sitting down cross-legged, Harry looked down at himself and had to laugh. For once, some drying charms were definitely in order. At least he still had his wand, tucked securely in the pocket of some jeans Severus seemed to think were awfully snug on Harry. Good thing they were; his wand hadn't fallen into the water when he'd taken that plunge. 

So then, where had he been? Harry tried to think back, because of course now that he was safe on dry land, that question was back, clanging through his head even more loudly than before. 

Oh, right. What would he do now, if he were somehow to become free and able to choose for himself? Would he want to stay with Severus? 

Harry's nostrils flared, because all at once, it seemed to him that the answer to _that_ was bloody obvious. Of course he'd want to stay with Severus! They were lovers, weren't they? Not to mention all the fantastic sex. 

But as he sat on the shore thinking that over, it struck him that there was a lot more going on between them than just the sex, good as that was. They spent time together, didn’t they? A lot of it. And they talked. Sometimes, lying naked and sated in bed together, they talked for hours. 

Harry didn't think of himself as a slave, not when he was alone with Severus, just the two of them. He couldn’t avoid realising he was one, particularly when the press harped on it--stories about him seemed to come and go in cycles, now--but by and large, he didn't _feel_ like a slave, these days. 

That had been true for a while. A long while, but it was different, now. 

He felt relaxed. At ease. Comfortable with the future, finally. No evil wizards wandering Britain while the entire country looked to him to deal with them. 

He just felt . . . normal, he realised. And when had he ever felt that way, before? He had Severus to thank for it, he knew. He _had_ given Harry what he needed, just as he'd sworn he would. All the important things in life. A real home, one where he felt accepted. Appreciated. Someone he could rely on to stand by him in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer and all that. Severus _would_. Harry knew that, as surely as he knew his own name. 

It was like . . . it was like . . . Severus was his family, now. His partner, or his bonded, as Albus had termed it. 

When Harry thought of it like that, he realised he had everything he'd ever wanted. It had all just come in a different form than he'd expected. A man instead of a woman. A job he knew he was going to love, though not the one he'd planned to have. A family that actually included Ron and Hermione, too. And for his home, _Hogwarts_. 

The first real home he'd ever had. The only one he'd ever really wanted. He'd thought he'd have to leave it, but now, this way, it could be his home forever. 

Something about that just seemed _right_ to Harry. Of course it did. He was happy with Severus. He'd rather be bonded in love than in slavery, but he did want to be bonded one way or another, and he was, and-- 

Harry's whole body jerked again, but this time, he didn't lose his train of thought. 

_Love_ , he realised, even more shocked than when he'd plummeted through the water. _Is that what it is, what I feel for Severus? Love?_

That question was even worse than the last one, because when it came right down to it, Harry didn't think he had any way to know what love really was. Not this kind of love. He loved Hermione as a friend, and Ron almost like a brother, and Sirius like the father he'd never had . . . and of course he loved his parents even though he couldn't really even remember them. He loved the idea of them, anyway, and the memories that other people had given him, even if James hadn't been so perfect. 

After all, Harry wasn't perfect, either. 

But romantic love? Harry didn't know what that was. He just knew that he liked the way Severus moved when he danced, and he liked the little crinkles he got around his eyes when he was doing something nice for Harry . . . which was pretty frequently, actually. And he liked the way Severus smelled, and the feel of his hair, and he liked being with him, spending time together, sometimes chatting and sometimes just sitting quietly, reading together. And he really did love the way Severus had been so patient with him, all along, ever since he'd found out how inexperienced Harry was, and . . . and . . . Harry really couldn't imagine being with anyone else, ever. 

Or even wanting to. 

_Well, hell_ , thought Harry finally, feeling winded again although he'd hardly moved a hair. _I might not know what love is, but that sounds like it comes bloody close._

No wonder he'd been asking Severus to talk about his potions, and wishing he would share more about his younger years. Harry loved the man, so he wanted to know everything about him. Simple as that. Now that he thought of it like that, it all seemed so obvious. 

_Yes,_ Harry would stay with Severus if he were given the choice. Of course, he'd like to actually _have_ that choice. But he could live with the fact that he wasn't ever going to have it. He'd accepted that, months ago, really, and that was _before_ he knew he was in love. Or before he had been, maybe, because for the life of him Harry couldn’t figure out when it had all started. 

_Friends with benefits,_ he remembered telling Ron, and Ron had almost laughed at him, and had said that thing about how Snape had been looking after Harry, just after his birthday . . . no, not looking after him. Looking _at_ him, in some way that Ron had found hard to believe . . . 

Yeah, Harry thought, nodding, because he felt like he'd finally got it. Severus loved him too. A little, at least, just like Harry had started to think. Severus had to love him, right? Even if it was just a tiny, tiny bit. Otherwise, he couldn’t have got so ridiculously jealous over Hermione. Most of that had probably been sexual, but not all of it, because what Harry and Severus shared _wasn't_ just sexual. 

They wouldn't hold each other afterwards, would they, if sex was all there was to it? Severus wouldn't come out to the pitch and send Bludgers careening at Harry so he could practice his new manoeuvres in a more realistic setting. Harry wouldn't feel like he was _dying_ to tell Severus some exciting news he'd just learnt, not if what they had was strictly sexual. 

Maybe he'd been so slow to figure it out because compared to where he and Severus had started with each other, just becoming friends had seemed such a massive accomplishment. Impossible, in fact. 

But then, Harry's whole life had been made up of the impossible made real. 

Standing up, Harry dusted off his arse. All right, so he loved Severus. Good . . . that was really good. He'd much rather spend the rest of his life with a man he loved than one he didn't. And Severus almost certainly loved him, too. It was ruddy obvious, when he thought back over all the things the man had done for him. Things he hadn't had to do, at all. Little things. 

Severus had explained them away once by saying that _of course_ he wanted to keep Harry happy. It was only in his best interests, he'd said, because even after they crossed powers and defeated Voldemort, he hardly wanted a sulking teenager living with him. 

Yeah . . . he'd been smooth, Harry gave Severus that. The man could probably talk his way out of anything. But Harry saw through it, now. _Nobody_ could be strategic all the time, not even the head of Slytherin. Severus wasn't known for his warm kind-heartedness, was he? Yet he was that way with Harry, most of the time. The only times he wasn't were when he had good cause. Very good cause. 

But if it was all just some kind of . . . _act_ to keep Harry placated, Severus wouldn't be able to keep it up. Not consistently, not for so long. 

He obviously loved Harry. The proof was there, in all the things he'd done. 

Harry frowned as he started walking along the shore of the lake, broomstick in hand. Yeah, Severus really had done a lot for Harry, and in a way, that was the rub. Because Severus hadn't ever said _I love you,_ and why was that? 

Probably because he'd done so bloody much for Harry, that if Harry ever said, _I love you, too_ , Severus would think that Harry was confusing love with gratitude. So maybe Harry should say it first. 

No . . . same problem. 

Besides, like Severus had said, a spell was worth a thousands words. Certainly, it was worth more than three. That's how Severus had handled it all along . . . or for however long he'd been in love. That was probably the Slytherin way to think about it. You _did_ things for the other person, if you really loved them. That meant more than words. 

So what could Harry do for Severus? 

The last time he'd asked himself that, he _had_ just been acting out of gratitude. He knew the difference, and it _was_ different now. He didn't want to offer Severus some kind of thanks. No, he wanted the man to know he was appreciated. Respected. Liked. _Loved._

Yeah, it was entirely different, and this time, he wasn't going to come up with something as completely lame as offering to help mark essays. That wouldn't show Severus what Harry thought of him, what Harry wanted now, what he knew he wanted. 

_Who_ he knew he wanted. Or _whom_ , as Severus would say, a slight smirk playing about his lips. 

Harry grinned as he mounted the Firebolt, because that really settled it, didn't it? Only a man in love could find having his grammar occasionally corrected a little bit endearing. And for Severus to do it without slashing Harry to ribbons with that razor tongue of his . . . oh, yeah. That man was definitely in love, and it was just up to Harry to make him believe that Harry was, too. 

Or at least, that Harry would choose him again, if he could. Willingly choose him, because they were good together, and a life with Severus sounded like a damned fine thing, all around. 

How to do that, though, how to do that . . . Harry kicked off and flew. It was true, what he'd told Severus that once. He did do his best thinking while flying. And to solve this . . . yeah, he was definitely going to need any advantage he could get. 

  
  
  
  


**Thursday, June 17, 1999 ---- 8:30 p.m.**

"No peeking, now," said Harry. "We're almost there. Keep your eyes closed." 

Severus almost asked _why_ , again, but Harry had been cagey on that point the last three times he'd asked it, so he'd allowed himself to be led by the both hands, Harry obviously walking backwards to lead him. 

He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but then, that had been true for most of the day. Harry had been acting very oddly, coming and going at strange times, and then when Severus had suggested a dinner out, almost panicking, saying he wasn't hungry, which had triggered a pulse of energy in Severus' mind. 

Harry had sighed, then, and asked for a headache potion, before he said, "All right, that isn't true; I am a little hungry. But I'd rather wait dinner, all the same." 

Severus had given him the headache potion, of course; he hardly wanted to see Harry in pain, but he'd realised then and there that something _quite_ odd was going on. "Why would you want to delay a meal if you're peckish, already?" 

"I just do," said Harry stubbornly. "And I want you to go and work in your lab until I come and get you. All right?" 

So obviously, Harry had something planned. Severus had very little idea what, though it stood to reason it would include a late dinner. Severus didn't like surprises much, and he almost demanded that Harry tell him what was going on. 

But then he caught a glimpse of anxiety in those green eyes. Anxiety and longing, and the impulse to ruin Harry's surprise, whatever it was, completely left him. 

He'd gone and worked on the thestral potion as promised, time passing slowly as he stirred the congealing mass. Lonely in the lab, today. No Harry. Well, that was frequently true, but Severus was missing him more than usual, today. Probably because he wanted to find out just what Harry was up to, out there, with his constant trips upstairs and back. 

Finally, Harry had come in, standing quietly beside him. "Is it stable? Can you leave it for a while?" 

Severus tapped his wand to the flame beneath the cauldron, and it flickered and died, then turned to Harry. 

"Close your eyes." 

He rolled them, instead. "You cannot be serious." 

Was that his imagination, or did Harry almost bat his eyes? 

"Please." 

"Oh, very well," said Severus, making sure it sounded properly grumbly. 

And so now here he was, eyes closed tight, being pulled slowly along the corridors of his own quarters, just as though Harry didn't know that Severus had lived here for twenty years and knew every inch, every turn? 

They were in the reading room; he understood that even before Harry steered him over to the dining table in the alcove and helped him sit down in a straight-backed chair. He heard the scrape of another chair, and then Harry's voice, right next to him. Sounding tremulous, somehow. 

"All right, then. Open your eyes." 

When Severus did, all he saw was an empty table. "Yes?" 

Drawing his wand with a nervous little smile, Harry quickly tapped the table three times. 

A single goblet and place setting appeared, along with a crystal plate that hovered for a moment before slowly drifting down to rest atop the table. At the same time, several dishes popped into existence, each of them bearing delicacies already divided into bite-sized pieces. 

An odd array of food, really, thought Severus as he glanced from dish to dish. Avocado, and truffles, and some sort of mixed salad containing nuts, among other things. 

And in the goblet, Severus knew from smell alone, pineapple juice infused with fresh vanilla. That was enough to cue his memory. 

"For some reason this all seems rather familiar," drawled Severus, turning to face Harry, who glanced away but then looked back. 

"More to you than me. I can't remember it so well." 

"Then, how . . ." Severus lifted a hand to indicate the variety of food on the table. "You researched the invocation?" 

Harry laughed, very slightly. "That seemed a waste since you'd already done all the work. No, I just asked the elves what they made for your special feast." 

"And you recreated it. Why?" 

"It's been exactly a year. June seventeenth . . . oh, come on. You can't tell me you didn't notice the date today. I don't believe that for a second." 

Severus had noticed; of course he had. But he hadn't thought to mark it in any special way. He hadn't expected that Harry would want to. "You want to celebrate? Your _slavery?_ " 

"No, I want to celebrate our binding," said Harry calmly. "And I want to do it every year, and we're both pretty young, so that's going to mean a lot of years." He smiled, then. "Haven't you ever heard of an anniversary?" 

Severus drew in a breath, feeling a little bit like he'd drunk a fouled potion. He couldn't seem to think straight. Harry's words were clear enough, but they seemed nonsensical. His binding _was_ an enslavement, after all. 

But perhaps this was all just Harry's attempt to show Severus that he'd learned to fully accept his slavery. Even that seemed odd, as Severus had known that for some months, now. Harry made it very plain. He didn't whinge or sulk; he rarely even complained. He spoke about the future without bitterness, and that future always included Severus. 

Severus didn't know what to say, but felt strongly that he'd better say something. Harry seemed to be waiting. Not precisely on tenterhooks, but still, somewhat anxiously. "So June seventeenth is our anniversary, it is? And you've recreated the ritual meal so I can . . . feed you, again?" 

"Oh, it's you who gets fed this time, Severus," said Harry, suddenly sounding a lot more relaxed. "And bathed, don't forget. Though that ritual bath wasn't really very much about bathing at all, was it?" 

Mention of the bath had Severus' cock stirring to life, though the implication in Harry's words was rather startling. "We're playing at invoking again, only this time, I'm the supplicant?" 

"Well, I think we both know that you'll never really be that. But you know how the invocation's supposed to demonstrate that the master wizard will take really good care of his slave?" Harry took both his hands, and looked him squarely in the eyes. "You've done a great job at that, for a solid year now. And I know you'll keep on. But I want to feed _you_ tonight, as . . . like a symbol, of the reverse. I'll take care of you, too, and meet your needs. We're partners. Lovers." 

Severus' eyes searched the depths of Harry's gaze. He understood, but he didn't. Or rather, he didn't know why Harry thought any of this had been necessary. Harry wasn't saying anything that wasn't already evident. "Yes, lovers," he finally said, trying not to sound as baffled as he felt. "If . . . if you feel you haven't been an equal partner, as much as I can possibly arrange, then--" 

"You don't get it at all, do you?" said Harry softly. "Listen. I'm trying to say . . . well, sorry, I guess. I know I've been utter crap to you this past year. Sometimes, at least. And stupid as this might sound, I only recently figured out that you have needs too, and I ought to start meeting them." 

Oh. _Oh._ Harry prattling on about how Severus should talk about his potions work suddenly made a good deal more sense. "You don’t have to--" 

Harry laid a finger crosswise against his lips to silence him. "Maybe we should make you keep to that no-talking rule." 

"I can talk. No witnesses," retorted Severus. Rather cleverly, he thought. 

"Fine, you can talk. But stop it with the _you-don't-have-to_ rubbish. Of course I don't have to. You think I don't know that? I want to, Severus. I want to do better by you, and it seemed to me that this would be a good way to start. It worked for you, after all." 

That last bit was pure cheek, but Severus found he didn't mind it. Or maybe he hardly even noticed it; the rest of what he'd heard seemed so much more significant. Harry wanted to do better. Harry wanted to meet his needs. Harry felt comfortable with him, even despite the slavery. Or maybe, even . . . 

"You're happy with me," said Severus, but not as a question. 

"Yeah. I'm very happy." Harry nodded. "And it's not just like, I'm happy with you, you know. It's more like, I'm happy _to_ be with you. We work, you know? We just do." 

Severus swallowed. Harry was happy? Truly happy? He remembered waking up almost a year ago and wishing with everything he was for that to be possible, someday. For it to become true. And now it had? 

"You're not just content?" asked Severus, his voice so rough that he immediately cleared his throat. 

Harry gave him a strange look. "Have I seemed just content?" 

"Not for some time." 

"Well, there you have it, then." 

Severus tightened his hands on Harry's then, realising that he wanted to contribute something to the anniversary celebration. "How closely did you want to follow the invocation? Do you want to tie my hands behind my back?" 

"I don't think we need to go that far, as long as you can behave and let me do the honours, eh?" With that, Harry picked up julienned strip of honeyed ginger, and lifted it to Severus' lips. "You let me take care of you, for once." 

Severus could have told Harry that he'd already been doing that. What else had killing the Dark Lord been, after all, but Harry taking care of Severus, and everyone else as well? But he was content instead to let Harry do this for him, too. No . . . he was happy. 

"Juice?" asked Harry, lifting the goblet. 

Severus' pulse raced. Drinking during the ritual meal had been far more intimate than eating. Particularly considering the way Harry had been behaving, with his deepest, most honest sexual desires laid bare for both Severus and the witnesses to see. 

He opened his mouth, welcoming the warm brush of Harry's, and lapped at Harry's tongue, drinking the juice directly from his mouth. 

And afterwards, he found he had very little to say except to echo Harry himself. "Mmm. Really good juice." 

Harry laughed, and gave him another drink, and Severus kissed him even more languidly, more sensuously, that time. 

"Oh, God," said Harry, his voice shaking as he pulled back. "That's really . . . I don't know how you managed to stand it, me kissing you like that. I'm about to come on the spot." 

"Yes, you're at quite the disadvantage." Severus smirked. "I'd had my libido dampened by the potion I'd consumed. But you'll just have to suffer through it." 

"It wasn't a problem for you? I remember things, but they're sort of blurry." 

"You were so wanton, so blatantly tempting, that it was indeed a problem," drawled Severus. "But perhaps not so much in the physical sense. And that was even worse, I think. To want you, that much and that fiercely, and know that there was absolutely no possibility of any release? Now that was suffering." 

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I can imagine. Come on now, we have to eat all this food before we're allowed to enjoy the bath part of the evening." 

Severus licked and nibbled at Harry's fingers every time food was offered, occasionally sucking them completely inside his mouth, then releasing them to lave them base to tip, base to tip. 

He stopped, though, when Harry got desperate enough to try slipping a hand down into his jeans. "No, no, none of that," said Severus, deciding he would eat the next few bites more normally. "You can't spend yourself. Tonight's for me." 

A little bit startling, how openly eager he sounded. 

Harry picked up a fork and ate some braised endive, looking like a man who was trying his best to calm his cock down. 

For his part, Severus couldn't resist a little teasing. The verbal kind. "Perhaps your hands should be tied again, even if we have reversed roles. To help them behave." 

Harry's gaze shot to his, the colour a brilliant sparkling green. "One more smart remark and I'll change my mind and tie _you_ , after all." Harry suddenly raised his eyebrows. "What was I thinking, anyway? You aren't supposed to be sitting there fully clothed. Where's your mark, eh? It should be on display." 

"My mark." Severus knew that Harry didn't mean the Dark Mark, long inactive now, but the word still sent an unpleasant shiver through him. 

"Yeah, 'cause if you're mine, shouldn't I get to mark you, too? Same place, I think. Off with your robes, your tunic, your shirt . . ." 

Severus unbuttoned them with shaking fingers, wondering if Harry was really suggesting what it seemed. He wouldn't deny Harry if it would make him happy, but for his own part, he didn't much care for the idea of a ring pierced through his nipple. A permanent mark upon his body called to mind too strongly the last time he'd allowed that, to his great regret. Of course, he wouldn't regret bearing Harry's mark, but still . . . no, he simply didn't find the thought erotic. 

He should have known to trust Harry, though. He should have known that Harry understood him well enough never to propose what Severus had been thinking. 

"So, this one?" asked Harry, a little smile playing about his mouth as he pinched Severus' left nipple, rolling the tiny bud of flesh between thumb and forefinger. "Or the other?" He repeated the treatment on the right nipple. 

Severus felt his breath catch. "I . . . well, if I'm the supplicant tonight, then surely that decision is up to you." 

"Oh, you're supposed to _answer_ when we play the questions game, Severus. How can I decide on my own? I need to know which one is more exquisitely sensitive." 

Severus gasped more loudly as Harry continued to play with his nipples. Sensation building in his cock, he finally admitted, "The right, I think, the right . . ." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Sometimes I think we are more opposites, you know. And you know, they say that opposites attract . . ." 

"Yes, they do." Severus was having a little trouble concentrating. "But in other ways we're very alike, Harry--" 

"Yeah, we both like topping best. A good thing we're _also_ both so good at taking turns. All right then, the right." 

No flash of metal, no flick of wand to prepare the skin, because Harry wasn't piercing him. He was bending his head down to Severus' chest and sucking the chosen nipple into his mouth, and caressing it lovingly with teeth and lips and tongue. 

Severus' cock sprang to full attention, and he gripped the arms of his chair in an effort to keep quiet. But that was just a reflex, an instinct. He'd learned more and more in the past few months about how much Harry liked to hear him, when they were making love. Severus still had to remind himself not to stay quiet; it didn't come naturally to him. 

But whenever he did remember to let go, he tried his best to do it. "Ahhh," he moaned, the noise almost a low hiss as his hands relaxed on the chair. "Yes. Good. I love it--" 

But then the noises he was making began changing, because what Harry was doing was changing. No more teasing, now; Harry had latched onto a tiny bit of skin just above his nipple, and was pulling hard on it. Drawing hard, lips and tongue suctioning him now, until the sensation was almost annoying, until it built up to actual pain. 

Exquisite pain, though. 

Severus shifted in the chair, leaning his head back, and howled. 

Perhaps that had been a signal of some sort; at any rate, Harry stopped then, and moved back as if to study his handiwork. Severus looked down to see a dark purplish blotch upon his chest. 

"Not permanent, though," quipped Harry, picking up a truffle to feed to Severus. "I'm afraid I'll have to do that again every now and again. But you don't mind, do you? You are in fact mine?" 

"Yours," breathed Severus, still recovering from the onslaught to his senses. Or perhaps the shock of all of this. He would never have believed that Harry would ever want to re-enact any part of the invocation ceremony, not even in reverse. How could it not call to mind painful memories? How could it not represent-- 

"You're over-thinking everything. I can tell," said Harry with a straight face. 

Severus laughed. "You're right. I'll just enjoy myself instead." 

"Now, _that_ was some damned good advice someone once gave me. Juice?" 

They kissed their way through it until the goblet was drained, then finished the rest of the titbits remaining on the table, Harry feeding Severus directly from his hand. 

And apart from the sheer sensuality of the experience, Severus learned something else. It truly was lovely to have Harry taking care of his needs, to rest secure in the knowledge that they would be met. To surrender control, and have complete faith in his partner . . . 

He hoped he'd given that to Harry, over this past year. 

Judging by Harry's willingness to do all this tonight, though . . . Severus had to think that Harry did feel truly comfortable with him. 

When the meal was over, Harry trailed a finger over the inside of the goblet, and then smeared a streak of juice on Severus' chest. And then he lapped it up, and said, "Oh, look at that. I think you need a bath . . ." 

Severus needed no more prodding than that, to rise from his chair. 

Harry led him again, walking backwards, holding Severus' hands, though this time he didn't insist on Severus' eyes being closed. 

The bath was full already, charmed to stay warm, the colour a swirling, pearly one. Not quite the same as it had been at the invocation, but somewhat close. Severus blinked. "You even brewed a potion? To make the water slick?" 

Harry gave him a quick look. "No. I'd have needed help and that would've ruined the surprise." 

"You could learn to brew if you wanted to," said Severus as Harry began to unfasten Severus' trousers. His cock sprang free, fully erect, almost throbbing. "You're more than clever enough." 

"Oh, I have more brains than a palm frond, after all?" Harry's light-hearted tone said he didn't resent the old days any longer. Or not as he once had. "Well, if I want to learn, I'll certainly let you know." 

"Did you buy something ready-made, then?" Severus turned to stare doubtfully at the water. 

"Well, I couldn't ask you to brew it, could I?" Harry started in on his own clothing. 

"Please don't tell me you bought this from those cretin friends of yours." 

Harry smiled widely, wriggling his jeans off as he looked at Severus. "Well, I knew Fred and George weren't the types to sell information about me. You know, how the Chosen One must like water sex, since he's been buying some pretty kinky potions--" 

"No, they'll just talk about it to each other until they're overheard. Either that, or they'll keep quiet because there's an unexpected jinx built in--" 

"Oh, relax. I didn't go to them. I ordered by owl and used the Hogwarts' general account. Paid it back, of course." 

Well, that was better, but Severus still didn't hold much store by ready-bought. 

"And I tested it last night while you were hard at work. Good thing I nicked some Frictionate, or I might never have managed to get back out of the tub." 

"Stealing from my potions lab again, I see," drawled Severus. 

He must have got his own tone just right; Harry just grinned. "Well, if I want Dragon's Happy I'll definitely ask, but I thought you wouldn't mind, in this case." 

Fully naked now, Harry dabbed the Frictionate onto Severus first, then himself. Then, with a flick of his wand, Harry made the ferns surrounding the pool part, and side by side, Harry and Severus descended down into the pearl-coloured water. 

It _was_ slick, Severus realised at once. Where his hip was brushing against Harry, the skin felt actually oiled, though the water wasn't oily in the least. 

Harry drew him over to sit down on a low bench, and straddled him, legs on either side of Severus' own as he placed both his palms flat against Severus' chest. When he leaned close to kiss Severus, his nipple ring brushed against the tender purple spot on Severus' chest. 

_Ah, Merlin. Exquisite pain, again._

"Now, you have to come three times, you know," said Harry, playfully tracing his fingers over Severus' lips as if to keep him quiet for a moment. "Which is asking a lot, from a man of your age--" 

"Whelp--" 

_Whelp_ quickly changed to a yelp when Harry swiftly leaned down and bit Severus' shoulder. 

"That _hurts!_ " 

"Yeah, I know," said Harry dryly. "Listen, now. I was about to say that it was asking a lot but that we both know you're up for it. I know what you can do and you can't. I should . . . and then I was going to say that as I haven't had a potion to help me like you did, I thought I'd join you on the third one, eh? If I can last that long." 

"May I speak, now?" Harry stuck out his tongue and waved for him to go ahead. "There's no doubt that you can last that long. I know what you can do and you can't." 

"There you go, then." Harry's hand grasped hold of his cock. "Hand job first, then. And then we sit and talk, and enjoy some wine, and then I'm going to give you a special-deluxe blowjob. Like you've never had before." 

"Think you have a new trick up your sleeve, do you?" 

"I _know_ I have a new trick. And it's not up my sleeve. You can just wait and wonder while I . . ." Harry's hand began moving up and down, firm stroking rhythms along the shaft, while his other hand descended into the water to tease Severus' cock head. 

A two-handed cock massage . . . definitely the best kind. And this time, even more so, because in order to stay on Severus' lap in the slick water, Harry's knees had to squeeze hard against Severus' hips. It was the most erotic sort of hug Severus had ever experienced. 

Leaning his head back against the edge of the tub, Severus let out a long, keening sigh of pleasure. 

"Oh, that's not enough," said Harry, continuing to work Severus' cock with damned-near perfect motions. Merlin, he'd learned a lot! He knew just what Severus' liked, just how to tease him, how to prolong the pleasure . . . "You have to give me more than that, Severus. One sigh? Come on, _talk_. What's your fantasy now? You're on board ship with a handsome pirate--" 

"I'm in a large, warm tub with a handsome young Quidditch coach, his muscles toned and firm, his hard cock bumping up against my belly as he strokes me and strokes me--" 

Harry glanced down. "It is not. My hands are in the way." 

"You said to tell you my fantasy." 

"Oh, my _cock_ has a starring role in your fantasy. Well, that sounds all right, doesn't it? You can take hold of it and--" 

"We're pretending my hands are tied, remember?" 

"Frustrating," murmured Harry. "But I guess it was that for you, as well." 

He applied himself in earnest then, to the handjob, tormenting Severus--no other word for it, really. Fondling his balls, one finger entering Severus to tease at the promise of prostate play, Harry's other hand squeezing and stroking and-- 

With a great shout of pleasure, Severus came, pulsing into the creamy water. 

"No fair," said Harry, moving up to speak against his lips. "I wanted to keep on. You sneaked that one past me." 

"Well, I couldn't wait any longer to proceed to the, what did you call it? Super-deluxe blowjob?" 

"Yes, but now you have to," said Harry, his hand now stroking a cock quickly going limp. Resting his head against Severus' shoulder, Harry fell quiet then, content, it seemed, to simply sit together in the slick water, their breathing matched as they rested. 

No, not content. Happy. 

As Severus was deeply, deeply happy. 

Finally, Harry stretched and reached behind a row of ferns to get his wand. He summoned wine and glasses, but let Severus perform the uncorking spell. 

"Well, now I know why you allowed me hands--" 

"And you call _me_ whelp." Harry sipped his wine and gave a slight grimace. "Picked out a dry one, for you. But for your information, I'm going to get the hang of opening wine bottles with magic. I just need a bit more practice. Oh, forgot, sorry--" Harry raised his glass and waited until Severus did the same. "To a summer alone, with no real worries, this time." 

Very, very apt. But Severus had something else in mind. "To excellent handjobs." 

"Very funny. Make a real toast, now." 

"To Slytherin?" 

"Severus--" 

"To us," said Severus quickly. "To a future with my bonded." 

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I kind of like that word, too." 

Severus was allowed only one small drink of wine before Harry took his goblet away. "Too much indulgence, you know. Will only make things harder on you!" 

_He_ proceeded to drain his goblet while Severus watched. But he made up for it in kisses afterwards. Delicious ones with Harry tasting of wine. 

Harry palmed his cock, then crawled off Severus' lap. "I think you're ready. I . . . uh, had to borrow something else from you, for this part, but I didn't think you'd really mind. Hang on a second, then . . ." 

He turned away and waded halfway across the pool, then grabbed something that had been hidden among the ferns. Severus didn't get a chance to see what it was, but then, as a gulping and swallowing noise followed, he realised that Harry had eaten it. 

_Eaten_ it? What would Harry need to eat, or drink-- 

Oh, no, _no_. Not Polyjuice! Didn't Harry know by now that Severus loved him exactly as he was? 

When Harry turned back, though, he still looked like himself. Well, except for the gill-slits slashed across the sides of his neck. 

_Oh, sweet Merlin's cock._ Severus was the one gulping, then. It was hard to believe what he was seeing, because he knew, didn't he, what was coming. Something he'd actually never had before, though it cropped up occasionally in erotic stories he'd read. 

_Very_ erotic stories. 

Harry slid beneath the surface without another word, the water rippling as he swam the brief distance back to Severus. Webbed hands settled onto Severus' thighs, then moved together to caress his cock. And then, the warmth of the water merged into the warm, sweet cavern that was Harry's mouth, and Severus felt himself taken fully in, swallowed, almost, as Harry began to work his cock. 

Wet slickness all around, Severus felt like he'd been plunged inside the blowjob. Like it had become him, and he had become it, and-- 

Merlin above, _be the brew_ suddenly made some kind of sense to him, though he knew of course that it didn’t truly apply to potion-making. 

_Such_ an odd-blowjob. Instinct more powerful than reason, he kept expecting Harry to need to come up for air. But he didn't, of course. The wet pressure on his cock just kept on and on, Harry licking and teasing, sucking and nipping, until Severus heard himself making noises that Harry wasn't even there to hear.

On and on it went, the blowjob lasting much longer than usual, because of course with Gillyweed, Harry had to stay down there a while. He was skilled, though, Severus had to grant him that. He didn't keep on until Severus was sore and aching; periodically, he backed away and just spent the time running his webbed hands up and down Severus' calves, reaching up to stroke his chest, his flippered feet moving slowly in the water all the while. And then he'd go back to engulf Severus' cock once more.

At last, when Harry's time was nearly up, he didn't back away when Severus' climax grew close. His tongue swirled, teasing the underside of Severus' cock as he bobbed his head. Life was made of nothing but pleasure, it seemed to Severus. Wet, warm, pleasure. And then, a great long rush of it began swirling through his balls and shooting out of his cock, straight down Harry's throat, Harry's webbed hands cupping his balls all through it, one of them reaching back to stroke the cleft between his arse cheeks. 

Severus shouted with the force of his orgasm, then slumped and relaxed, slipping into the water, his head going beneath the surface. 

They came up together, Harry and he, both glistening wet, hair slicked back, Harry with no more trace of gills. 

It was a moment before Severus could speak, and then, his voice was rough. "You may help yourself to Gillyweed at any time, of course." 

"That's good," said Harry, grinning. Severus thought he meant it would be good for more blowjobs, but then he said, "I kind of went underwater in that lake I made, and later on, I thought it might be a bit of fun to swim down to the bottom and explore a little." 

Severus nodded, until it occurred to him to ask, "How does one go 'kind of' underwater?" 

Harry swam back over to the bench and crooked a finger for Severus to join him. "You go under without knowing it's going to happen. Crashed on the Firebolt, see. From just a couple of feet up, though. Wasn't really a problem." 

Harry was far too good a flyer to crash from two feet up, usually. "Some daredevil new manoeuvre?" 

"Nah. I was just thinking about things, and . . . well, something occurred to me which was an awful shock, and I lost control of the broom. Teach me to not pay attention to my flying." 

An awful shock? Severus didn't like the sound of that. If Harry had a problem, he wanted to help him with it. "What shocked you to that degree?" 

"Well, I wasn't balanced on the broom right to begin with," said Harry quickly. "Er . . . I'll have more wine, I think. It's safe after Gillyweed? You want another little sip?"

Severus hid his frown. Harry hadn't really answered his question, but he clearly didn't wish to, so Severus was hardly going to insist. "Have some, yes. But no more for me, thank you." 

Harry got up to pour himself another goblet, though he didn't drink much from it, really. "So, summer plans," he said, settling himself in alongside Severus, again. "Any ideas?" 

"What do you want?" 

"Whatever makes you happy." 

"Wonderful. Let's start with an answer." 

Harry curled an arm around Severus' shoulders. "Hmm. Well, I did mean my first answer, you know. But besides that, plenty of flying time, but it doesn't matter where so much. And I thought I might like to see the house you mentioned, in some town named Spinner's End, was it?" 

"That's the street. But yes, certainly, I can show you the house I inherited. It's not as though I ever really lived there, though. Just for those few weeks I told you about." 

"Where _do_ you live in the summers? I know you stayed here last year, but I thought the teachers generally didn't do that." 

"Most don't. I would usually do a fair bit of travelling. Picking up new languages, seeing the sights. Though in recent years that's been curtailed due to the rise of--" 

"Yeah," said Harry thickly, before he shook his head like he was shaking the thought away. "Well, you're free of that now. We're both free of it. More travelling sounds really good. Hermione and Ron can tell us about the best wizarding spots in South America now, you know." 

"Perhaps we can all four go together," drawled Severus in a very dry tone. 

"Seriously?" 

Severus hadn't been, no, but at the look on Harry's face, lighting up with eagerness, with happiness . . . "If that would suit you. Mind, I might slip up on occasion and kiss you in front of them, when you're looking particularly handsome." 

There, he thought, rather pleased with himself. He'd graciously agreed but in such a way that Harry would have to call off the idea. 

But instead, Harry kissed him, before poking him in the chest and saying, "You're on." 

Oh, dear Merlin. What had he got himself into? Well, too late to call it back, now. And Harry did need his friends; Severus knew that. 

And too, there was something almost unbearably delightful about the idea that Harry wasn't objecting, now, to people knowing that Severus did in fact kiss him. 

"I'm about to die, here," Harry suddenly said. "I've been hard for _hours_ , now." 

"Nonsense. We haven't been in the bath for hours." 

"I've been bloody hard all day thinking about it, though. Can you go again, yet?" 

"A little while longer," said Severus. "How about a massage?" 

"Oh, like touching you is going to calm me down. Yeah, good idea--" 

"I'll massage you, of course," said Severus smoothly. 

"No, no, I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you, tonight." 

Severus leaned close, and spoke in the huskiest voice he could manage. The one that he knew sent thrills straight down to Harry's toes. "Take care of my need to touch you, then." 

Harry smiled, the movement slow and languorous. "Oh, well, if you put it like that . . ." 

Turning to the side, away from Severus, he leaned forward a little. 

Severus scooped slick water up and showered Harry's shoulders with it, then began. Long, slow strokes, pressure here, pressure there . . . and all the while, Harry moaning with enjoyment, twisting, stretching as Severus found every bit of tension in his muscles and worked it out. 

Finally, Harry turned to face him again. "You do realise that just made me want you ten times worse, all that touching?" 

"I would hope so . . ." 

Without warning, Harry straddled him again, only this time, he scooted his cock up against Severus' stomach. Up on his knees on the stone bench, Harry started lowering himself down, biting his lip a little. 

Not in apprehension, though. It just looked like concentration. And then, "I don't know how to . . . er, aim properly. Maybe you can--" 

Severus needed no further invitation than that. Two hands on Harry's hips, he angled him a little differently even as he scooted down on the bench slightly. Reaching down and around, then, he found Harry's cheeks and stretched them apart in preparation. Not much more than that was needed, with the slick water providing lubricant and Harry already loose and relaxed from frequently bottoming for Severus. Half his tightness before had been pure stress, in any case. 

Everything was much easier now that Harry truly wanted and enjoyed it. 

Though granted, they'd never tried this position before, except when Harry was doing the thrusting from below. 

Harry pushed himself down, obviously finding Severus' cock, and lowered himself further, gasping as it began to slip inside him. "Ohhhh, yeah. Good, so good . . ." 

"Yes," grunted Severus, lunging upward. 

Harry leaned forward and hugged him tight, grinding the hard length of cock against Severus' belly. "Oh-- Oh-- _So_ good--" 

"Good position, yes," panted Severus, thrusting upwards in quick, sharp jabs. 

"Yeah . . . oh, _yeah . . ._ " Strangely, Harry suddenly sort of whacked Severus on the back, even as he kept moaning and thrusting. "You might have told me!" 

"I did--" 

"Oh, right . . ." 

The thing about this position, as Severus knew from experience, is that it gave the man being penetrated a tremendous amount of control. As they kept on, Harry seemed to catch on to that. Now he wasn't grinding so much as bucking, leaning away from Severus, his hips jerking, cock bouncing in the air as he held onto Severus' hands to keep from falling backwards into the water. 

The candlelight glinted across his nipple ring, and as Harry fucked himself on Severus' cock, his pleasure in the act absolutely evident, Severus thought it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. 

Even if Harry was swearing. Or maybe because he was. 

"Oh, God. Oh, _God_ ," he practically screamed, his fingernails digging into Severus' palms as Harry clenched his hands, tighter and tighter. "Fuck, _fuck--_ " 

_I am_ , Severus might have said, if he hadn't been enjoying the sight before him too much to interrupt Harry's concentration. 

Lips parted, leaning back so far now that his hair was trailing into the water, Harry started rolling his hips in tempo to Severus' thrusts. _Now_ , thought Severus, and he changed angle slightly so that his cock would slide directly against Harry's prostate, instead of merely brush against it. 

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ " panted Harry, the words slurred, but still clear enough for Severus to relish every one. "I-- love-- you-- _so_ god-damned-- fucking-- aaaah!" 

He came screaming incoherently, semen pulsing out in a steady stream as he lost his grip on Severus' hands and fell onto his back in the water, to lay there jerking and spasming, incoherent swear words still gasping out from between his lips. 

He didn't slip off Severus' cock, though, because the instant Harry let go of his hands, Severus moved to grab his hips, and keep him firmly in place. 

If anything, that just seemed to increase Harry's pleasure. 

And Harry's pleasure was Severus', quite literally. His own climax came roaring down upon him in a rush such as he'd rarely ever felt. Or never, perhaps, for when had he ever, _ever_ heard words like that from anyone's lips? 

Severus threw his head back and howled again, his fingers digging into Harry's skin, his toes curling against the bottom of the pool. 

And then he, too, collapsed, nearly knocking his skull into the marble edge of the tub. 

Harry gingerly slid backwards, off his cock. Too soon; Severus could have enjoyed staying in him a bit longer. Harry, though, had something else in mind. 

Grabbing his hands again, Harry pulled him forward, into the water, and stood up with him, the two of them shaking with the intensity of what they'd just shared. Shaking, and looking at each other, until Harry finally said, "If sex gets any better than _that_ , we'll have to plan things beforehand." 

Severus could barely think what he meant. Could barely think at all, actually. Except one thing. _I love you so god-damned fucking . . ._ much, perhaps? 

But then, people often screamed things in the throes of passion that they didn't truly mean. Not that they usually screamed them with Severus, but still . . . 

"Plan?" he finally asked, almost blankly. 

"Recuperative potions, definitely. You're going to be the death of me if you keep fucking me like that, and I'm _way_ too young to die." Harry stepped towards him and leaned against him, then, his head tucked atop Severus' shoulder. "And, about the other thing. Er-- sorry." 

_Sorry?_

"You're sorry you love me or you're sorry you said it when you _don’t?_ " asked Severus, setting Harry aside. Roughly. 

"Don't be stupid! I'm not _sorry_ I love you! What are you, the world's biggest _git?_ " 

Oh. Severus had evidently misread things, then. 

_Yes, probably so,_ said a mocking voice inside him. 

He barely heard it, though, through the way it felt like his soul was splitting in two inside him. Splitting in two, and brilliant bright white light pouring out, and Harry standing there in the middle of it, saying, "I'm not sorry I love you!" 

Severus suddenly couldn't bear not to be touching Harry. He swept him back into his arms and hugged him tight, and tried not to ask the questions that, inevitably, perhaps, began surging through him. _You love me, really? Are you sure? Are you positive? Do you--_

He was never going to ask any of that, _never_ , in case the answers weren't to his liking. No, far better to cling to what he had, so he could always remember it unsullied, Harry lying on his back and coming as he said _I love you_ and then saying it again, a little more angrily, afterwards. 

But he didn't need to ask his questions, because Harry knew him well enough to know he would be thinking them. 

"Yes, I really love you," he said, shaking his head. "Can I lie about it?" 

"You can-- you can--" Severus hated the shakiness of his own voice, then, but not even the most valiant effort at self-control seemed to make any difference. "You can misstate and twist things around, and-- oh, you know perfectly well that you have about a thousand ways around that mind bond." 

Harry stood a little straighter. "You stubborn bastard. Yeah, no headache, 'cause I mean that too. I guess you need more? How about, Severus Tobias Snape, I love you to bits, and I _want_ to be bonded to you more than anything else, and that's why I kind of re-did the invocation tonight, to try to show you that!" 

_I love you to bits._

_To bits_ _._

Severus felt like his knees might buckle. If the water weren't helping to support his weight, they might have already given way. And _still_ his mouth just didn't know when to shut up. "More than anything else?" he asked hoarsely. 

And then, he _knew_ that Harry wasn't lying to him, because the other man kept looking at him directly, calmly really, and said, "Severus, I want my freedom, too. You know that. But if I had it, I'd stay right here with you." 

At that, Severus thought he knew what it was like to die and go to heaven. Not that he believed in any such claptrap. 

"Then what were you sorry about?" he asked quietly, when it seemed the room had stopped spinning. 

Harry gave him what could only be considered an indulgent look. "Well, I was sorry I'd said it like that, of course. In the middle of a fuck? I'm not surprised you needed a little convincing, really. That is kind of . . . suspect, isn't it? You might have just thought I was having a great time. Which I was, but--" Harry ran his hands through his hair, mussing it. "The thing is, I'd been trying to tell you all evening, and I couldn’t quite figure out how." 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "It's so difficult to say three words, is it?" 

Harry raised his own eyebrow, just as high. "I think you know it is. Or maybe you're just more comfortable saying it without the words? Though you always have struck me as a very verbal sort of person." 

He left the challenge hanging between them. 

"Oh, well, yes. I do love you too. Of course I do." 

Harry smiled, very smugly. "Yeah, I knew that. Took me a while to figure it out, though." 

"I should have told you sooner," realised Severus. He'd cheated Harry, he suddenly saw. He'd cheated him of that golden moment of hearing it without prompting, something Severus himself would cherish forever and would never, ever forget. 

"When I was yelling how much I hated you every time things didn't go my way?" Harry shook his head. "I think I understand. And it doesn't matter. I mean, it's nice to hear it said, Severus. But the fact that it's there, that's a lot more important." 

Severus nodded shakily, wondering how it was that a man so much his junior in years could put him so much to shame. But then, Harry had a generous spirit, and Severus generally didn't, so perhaps it only stood to reason that Harry would be the first to say those three words out loud. 

"The water's getting cold," Harry suddenly said. "And we're sort of sticky. Shower, you think? Then bed?" 

Severus had to admit, bed did sound quite the idea. They soaped each other lazily, not saying much by then, just looking into each other's eyes, and laughing, now and then. 

Neither one of them needed to ask about what. 

Severus used a drying charm while Harry dried himself with a towel, and then they tumbled into the bed together, and snuggled down beneath the thick blankets needed to ward off the chill of the dungeons. 

"Severus?" asked Harry in the dark, his top arm resting loosely across Severus' chest, his head pillowed on Severus' shoulder. "I think I'm going to like saying it. You know? Or . . . maybe you don't." 

Severus didn't think that was a hint, but he did think it might tell him something about Harry's needs, if Severus were clever enough to listen, that was. "I think I'll probably need practise at saying it. I'm reserved by nature, you know, but you're my bonded, so . . . I love you, Harry. Hmm, not so hard to say, when you come right out with it." 

"How about _I love you to bits?_ " 

"How about, _I loved you enough to endure Disneyworld_." Severus lightly shuddered at the memory of what the Muggles termed "Fantasyland." As far as he was concerned, it had been nothing but one sickeningly-sweet ride after another, and every one of them designed to malign witches! Anti-wizard propaganda, without a doubt. He could hardly believe that Harry had actually liked that part of the park best of all. 

"Oh, shut it," said Harry. "I know you liked the pirates." 

"Yes, well, I didn't know in advance that there would be pirates," sniffed Severus. "When I agreed to go, it was because of the other." 

"The other that's not so hard to say?" Harry laughed, then suddenly stiffened. "Wait. When you agreed to go, it was because you loved me? Just how long are we talking?" 

"One year exactly," said Severus, feeling rather proud of himself that he knew. "I woke up loving you, Harry, that first morning after we'd been bonded." 

He couldn't see Harry frown in the complete dark, but he could sense it, somehow. "You don't think it was the spell, do you?" he asked, clearly nervous. "I wouldn't want that--" 

"No, it had clearly been coming on for some time prior," answered Severus dryly. "And you?" 

"Sorry, no idea." Harry shook with silent laughter as he lay against him. "Not the most romantic answer, I know. It just sort of snuck up on me without me noticing. But, hey, if it's any consolation, that's what made me crash into the lake. I'd just realised. You're damned lucky I didn't drown." 

"You know how to swim." 

"Romantic, aren't you?" 

Severus turned to lie facing Harry. "I don't know. Am I?" 

Harry snuggled forward. "Yeah, Severus, you actually are." With that, Harry kissed him, softly and lovingly, his fingers trailing down to stroke the mark he'd suckled onto Severus' chest. "You are, and I love you for that, too." 

"Just don't tell anyone," murmured Severus. 

"You think our press can get any more sappy than it already is?" 

Severus gave him a stern look, and Harry smiled. "All right. The fact that you're a born romantic, deep down inside, can stay our little secret." 

"I most certainly am not a--" 

"Love me, don't you? Love me forever?" Another kiss, a long, deep one. "That settles it for me." 

  
  
  
  


The End

Feedback Welcomed and Appreciated

  
  
All my love,  
Jordan

**Author's Note:**

> Final notes for _Cambiare Podentes_ : Deepest thanks must go to regan_v who has stuck with this project through thick and thin and all throughout, provided wonderful feedback, keen insight, and a much-needed fuel can when it seemed to me that the plot was running on empty. I literally could not have completed this project without her friendship and her abilities as a beta.
> 
> Additionally, this story would not have been possible without the love and support of a large number of my friends in the Harry Potter fandom who assisted me in many ways as I completed both _Invocare_ and _Madurare_. A wonderful group of women, indeed:
> 
> Annephoenix, who almost never missed a chance to encourage me, and who made me laugh every time she hoped that Severus would punish Harry,
> 
> Arsenic Jade, who taught me that H/C is, indeed, love, 
> 
> Atrata, whose own extremely canon Snape helped me craft bits of my own, 
> 
> Aubrem, who has done so much for the fandom -- love meeting you, 
> 
> Ausmac, who drew my lovely LJ icon and gave me heaps of feedback, early on, 
> 
> Bethbethbeth, whose interest in the infidelity plot made it really fun to write, 
> 
> Elanor Isolda, who loved it that I used got instead of gotten. 
> 
> Elfwreck, who helped me feel confident during the early stages, 
> 
> Ella Bane, who has a knack for gentle observation, 
> 
> Gauriel, who wrote up essay length commentary about sections of Invocare, 
> 
> Gaycrow, who stuck it through to the very end and was always an encouraging voice as well as a good spotter of typos, 
> 
> Guessless, a wonderful friend who held my hand and was always, always true, 
> 
> Icarusancalion, who helped me clear up Hermione's thoughts and motivations, 
> 
> Kaiz, who provided vast help in the early days, 
> 
> Laura_the_auror, who was such great fun in chat, 
> 
> Lizardspots, an amazing artist who was *so* excited when Harry pounced on Severus that time, 
> 
> Lolaraincoat, who gave me valuable input early on, 
> 
> Loupgarou1750, whose comments were always, always keenly helpful, 
> 
> Luthien, who talked to me about different ways authors work their way through a story, 
> 
> Maeglinyedi, an amazing author who was kind enough to give me input on this tale, 
> 
> Meri_oddities, who stuck with this through thick and thin, 
> 
> Nimori, who drew me a wonderful rendering of the rescue scene from the Dursleys, 
> 
> Ook, whom I can always find in chat, 
> 
> Painless J, who stayed with this until the very end and always commented, and also whose themed lists are the most amazing compliation of links I have ever seen, 
> 
> Perfica, who saved me from a terrible Gillyweed mistake, among her many contributions, 
> 
> Rexluscus, who gave me much-needed input and was great to meet, 
> 
> Serpentsgarden, who let me know what she liked, 
> 
> Snakeling, whose presence encouraged me, even though her icon always makes me look away, 
> 
> Snapetoy, whose comments helped me on every section, and who frequently anticipated the plot, 
> 
> Switchknife, who was very helpful, early on, and last but not least, 
> 
> tryfanstone, whom I would like to know better.
> 
> * * *


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